


Humanity is where the Heart is

by wxllow_chan



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A Dream SMP AU Thingy-, AU, All relationships are platonic, Angst, Assassination, Blood and Violence, DadSchlatt, Dadza, Eventual Major Character Death, Family Dynamics, Finding Family, Gen, Goat Hybrid Jschlatt, Goat Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Hybrids, Just an AU where Technoblade is a criminal fighter and has gotta kill someone, Long-Haired Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mythology References, No Beta we Die Like Presidents with Heart Problems, POV Technoblade, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), President Jschlatt and Vice President Quackity, SleepyBois Inc. - Freeform, SleepyBois Inc. AU, So Everyone's got some baggage huh?, Techno-centric, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Uses parts of the server lore, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Wilbur Soot, Yes Techno is an Underground Fighter, aged up/down characters, mcyt - Freeform, pretend any of this makes sense, sometimes, underground fighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:49:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wxllow_chan/pseuds/wxllow_chan
Summary: The Blade.The Blood God.Technoblade kills people. That's what he does. That's how he lives. Doesn't mean he likes it, but he needs it. He wants it.So being hired to kill someone with his entire livelihood at stake normally wouldn't be a problem.Except his target is one of the few people he's decided he actually likes and doesn't want to see die."If you are far from the enemy, make him believe you are near."-Sun Tzu, The Art of WarOR: An AU/personal spin of Dream SMP and SBI canon in which Technoblade is called to the Overworld to kill someone he finds he... doesn't really want to. Cue the confusing, conflicting emotions and the questions that soon follow.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & Jschlatt, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, No Romantic Relationships - Relationship, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 98
Kudos: 467
Collections: Purrsonal Picks





	1. Carvings of Pigs and the Blood of Beasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Excessive Blood/Violence  
> 

Pounding.

An incessant rhythm that won't stop.

_Ba-dump._

_Ba-dump._

_Ba-dump._

It won't slow down.

Goddamnit, why won't it _slow down??_

The loud, booming roars of the crowd echo through the stadium. Stomping and screaming. Voicing the bloodlust. The thirst for gore, for violence. For seeing another man fall at _his_ hands; their organs spilling at his feet, staining his skin, his clothes. The innards under his claw-like nails, in his fanged mouth, in his long hair.

He can taste the iron.

He craves it.

He licks his lips.

The blood-stains are never truly wiped from the floor of shining netherrack.

The red never goes away.

It only darkens.

A reminder.

A reminder that never fades.

Only chips.

Chips until it's eventually replaced.

It's always replaced.

It doesn't rain in the Nether, after all.

In the Underground stadium, which is built right in the middle of an abandoned fortress, the air is always thick and hot, tainted with the smell of fire, sweat, and the musk of old blood. The cheering echoes, bouncing through the rickety stands and off the thick, dark stone walls. Concession stands pockmark the top row, selling anything from charred meats to fresh bread to vegetables at exorbitant prices. There's merchandise with _him_ splattered on it all in vibrant hues of pink and red; fans proudly sporting his likeness in every way conceivable. Face tattoos? Sure. Earrings? Of COURSE. Masks? Well, that's just a must-have. Little pictures of a pig in a crown.

How he looks to people when he kills.

Not even remotely human.

The cheering won't _stop._

Not until he raises his head and greets his victory as he always does.

To give them what they what.

_Ba-dump._

_Ba-dump._

_Ba-dump._

The beating grows faster.

_Stop, stop._

_Slow down._

_Calm down._

_You've done this hundreds of times..._

He puts his hands over his ears, the points jabbing into his gory palms. The body is taken from his feet by people he doesn't bother to look at. Whom he never bothers to look at.

He is above them.

He is above them all.

That's what _they_ tell him.

That's the truth.

Blood still gushes from the open gash in the body's throat. A brilliant red fountain neatly carved by his glittering blade of death, painting the ground an even deeper shade of crimson. To him, they didn't have an identity. 

A family?

A lover?

A life they actually wanted to live?

Did they need the fight money?

Or was it for glory?

Were they scared when they were called to fight _him?_

Did they know it was the end of the road?

Did they get to say goodbye?

Did they have anyone to even say goodbye to?

He grits his teeth as the muffled cheering somehow grows even louder. The long, inhuman tusks that stick from his blood-stained lips scraping against his flushed, pale cheeks.

Monsters.

All of them. The ones who cheer.

Like _him._

The one who slaughters.

An animal.

A beast.

" _BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"_

_"TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES!!!"_

_"SUCK IT, NOOB!"  
_

_"Took him three hits? Shame."_

_"I was betting on one!!!"_

_"TECHNOBLADE!!"  
_

_"TECHNOBLADE!!"_

_"TECHNOBLADE!!"_

_"TECHNOBLADE!!"_

_"Guy didn't stand a chance against The Blade..."_

_"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"_

_"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"_

_"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"_

The audience chants. They want to see him. His face blank in the midst of another victory. They want to see their Blood God. 

He allows himself thirty more seconds of relative quiet before removing his clawed hands from his ears. The eyes of the ringleader bore into his back from his raised platform seat, burning a hole through the stained white satin of his shirt. The message the stare portrays is simple: _"Raise your head like a good beast and let your people see you."_

Slowly, deliberately, he schools his features into a blank look of indifference as he raises his head. The audience grows quiet, breath held unanimously through the stands as everyone cranes their necks to get a look. 

Quick as a bullet, his right hand shoots up into the sky, clutching a glistening diamond blade crusted with already-drying gore. He himself stares forwards with determination. The crowd takes it as silent confirmation of a kill.

But he really just can't stomach looking at any of them.

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

"If you wish to defeat me, train for another 100 years!!!!" He exclaims in his deep, monotone voice. His lips curl slightly as the crowd explodes again. Some shout challenges, some shout obscenities. But everyone else is cheering _for_ him. The sound is vociferous, reverberating through his very bones. 

It is both thrilling and blood-curdling at the same time. 

He longs for it.

He dreads it.

Which one is worse??

A magnified voice shatters the moment, drawing everyone's attention as the ringleader himself gets to his feet with a flourish of his arms, the man next to him clapping slowly.

Simon Hypixel.

"The winner of this fight, pig of the hour... our very own undefeated champ... TECHNOBLADE!!"

//||\\\

_"If you wish to defeat me, train for another 100 years!!!!"_

A smile curled the man's lips as the fighter finished off his night with such a grand finale. His hands met in a slow, deliberate rhythm as he got to his feet. The ringleader was not-so-subtly staring at him from the corner of his eye as he announced the winner. 

Theatrics were something of a weakness for him, so he let it proceed. 

Finally, as the crowd thinned out and the stadium noise had been reduced to murmurs and angry betters arguing over their share of profits, the man turned to the ringleader, who was looking down at the battlefield where the fighter was staring straight ahead unmovingly, letting the workers drape his red cape over his shoulders.

"So?" Hypixel asked, the flames lit behind the two cloaking them in shadow. "What do you think, Mr. President?"

Um ...

What _did_ he think?

It was promising, to say the least. He chuckled slightly, absently tapping a tip of a horn that curled around the side of his head.

Why not take a shot in the dark?

Even the most successful businessmen have to take risks sometimes.

Hypixel stared at him, face indiscernible in the flickering darkness. The man appreciated that he knew when to hold his tongue.

It marked intelligence.

He liked intelligence.

  
He turned his grey gaze back onto the fighter, who was finally being led away from the ring.

The tail poking from between the coattails of the man's suit gave a little wiggle. 

"He's your ward, correct?" The man asked, curious about why Hypixel was pushing this fighter to him so hard. There were rumors of course, but it was always good to verify. Hypixel nodded.

"He is. I've raised him perfectly." The ringleader announced, his eyes gleaming with something horribly familiar. The man tilted his head, giving it some thought.

"I want him." He spoke simply. No long-winded explanations. No asking. No negotiation.

This was not optional.

Hypixel picked it up.

Smart man.

The ringleader dipped his head, offering out a hand.

"So we have a deal, then?"

Stupid man.

He stared at the outstretched hand, his own now firmly clasped behind his own back. 

The silence stretched like taffy, so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Mr. Pres-- _Schlatt."_ Hypixel insisted, his hand still outstretched and reaching for a deal that he had thought would be made.

He used his real name.

"I want him." The man repeated, his voice low, silky, and dangerous. His limbs remained motionless. Hypixel's face went through a series of emotions; first, there was the confusion, then the dawn of realization, and now the anger.

He'd been boofed.

And boy, did he know it.

The man smirked as Hypixel tried to hold it together, the outstretched hand falling limply to his side. Finally, the ringleader spluttered, "You said I'd be compensated and that you'd overlook my operation!!"

The man's smile chilled. 

"утка." He commanded without moving an inch. Hypixel froze as, in an instant and a flurry of beating wings and feathers, an iron blade was being pressed against his windpipe and a heavy weight thumped onto his back, resting on his shoulder blades. He risked a backward glance, his eyes widening at the sight of not a bodyguard as he had expected, but a fucking _goose_ hefting the blade in its beak. It really _had_ just been standing guard at the doorway like he thought when he saw the thing. It had given him a death glare. Its eyes were borderline evil and soulless, looking to the horned man for instruction. Hypixel turned back, an expression of fear in his eyes that the man recognized all too easily. In contrast, the man himself was the epitome of frosty calmness.

Peace was never an option.

Ya love to see it.

He walked over, bending down to meet the ringleader's eyes. Their faces were inches apart.

"I never said I wouldn't, Hypixel. Don't get greedy." The smile plastered on his face warmed up again. "I want him." The man repeated for a third time, the tip of a horn jabbing into Hypixel's earlobe. His own fluffy ears were twitching; the only visible signs of his agitation. 

Hypixel gave a tiny nod, his windpipe too hard-pressed by the crazy government-trained white-feathered avian assassin to form any words at the moment. Hot blood dribbled from the tear in his earlobe, running in a thin, sticky trail down his neck.

"Good! Glad we all came to our senses tonight." He said jovially, straightening up with a small clap. Fishing in his pocket, he took Hypixel's hand and pressed a small gold coin with a large 'S' on it into his palm, curling his fingers over the smooth surface. With a pat to the head, the man turned and made for the door.

He snapped again. "Let's go утка." 

The goose gave an irritated honk, but got off the ringleader, who fell to the floor gasping and clutching his throat, and followed the man out of the booth.

"I'll send someone in two days to retrieve him. Let him know to pack what he needs, Hypixel."

What a reasonable guy, that Hypixel. 

Schlatt decided he _would_ overlook the obvious criminal acts that took place here. The Hypixel Tournament Fighting Ring.

Out of the... kindness of his own heart.

And because it served him a purpose.

He lowered a hand and patted his waddling friend's head, who was still gripping the blade and determined not to let go. And determined to knock every torch off of the walls.

Ah well.

The place served him a purpose, but that didn't mean he liked it.

//||\\\

_Clack._

Technoblade set his golden champion's crown on the wooden table beside his bed, dried blood crusted on the tines from the one time he had lost his sword and had to use the accessory as a weapon. That was one of his most well-known triumphs, the scene recreated many times over on the fighting ring merchandise. He stares silently at the headpiece.

He never washes his crown. Every blood-stain on the shining metal is another tale of victory.

Even if he doesn't like committing the acts, he craves the feeling of victory in the ring that follows them. It's like a high, and he's constantly seeking to get his twisted fix.

Technoblade is the Blood God for a reason.

You know you're something else when the first story everyone tells newcomers about you is a story of death.

The story of how the then-fourteen-year-old half-Piglin beast carved out his enemy's heart with the tines of his crown; scooping out the organ like he was scooping out ice cream.

Not that he's ever had ice cream before.

The Nether isn't very well-suited for frozen Overworld treats.

The room Technoblade calls his own is small, nestled deep within the heart of the abandoned fortress. He is the only fighter who lives down in the Nether full-time. He was born in the Nether and raised in the Nether. The fighter has never set foot in the Overworld before. This is probably what led to Technoblade becoming something of a legend, even to people who have never set foot in the stronghold _or_ the Nether before. Out of all the people in the Overworld, only a few people know about the criminal Underground the Nether hosts. Those who do either come down to participate or want nothing to do with anyone who associates with it. Some actively work to try and stop it. 

Though it's obvious the government is, for some reason, turning a blind eye to the brutality of the hellish landscape so far below the ground.

Technoblade likes the Nether.

As a Piglin (not a pig, don't _ever_ confuse that) hybrid born in the Nether, he's always had an affinity for the heat and the fire that burns across the land. He doesn't need as much water as an average human, so when he does get water, it's a nicety. Technoblade was left at the abandoned fortress fighting ring by his mother - a woman who was probably ashamed to bring a child like him back to the Overworld; with its uppity village people and then-rocky relationship with hybrids at best.

Despite everyone's notions that his bloodlust is due to being both a hybrid AND an orphan, Technoblade doesn't mind either, though he used to be mocked for both. (Which again, he didn't care about).

Hybrids, despite having no correlation with people _actually_ conceiving with mobs and are actually just the results of genetic mutations, have been monitored and closely watched for as long as they have been on the Earth. Hybrids come in all sorts of different species, some more human and some more animal. (Technoblade was lucky to be the former). After the Great Hybrid-Human War ended in 1836, started to stop the discrimination and foul treatment of the creatures and ended bloody on both sides, hybrids have slowly been given more and more rights and freedoms over time. In recent years, hybrids have had much better ties with normal humans since the election of the Overworld's President Schlatt; a goat hybrid, and Vice President Alex; a duck hybrid. The citizens even go so far as to call Alex 'Quackity' with his encouragement. (Technoblade has only ever heard about these men. Living in the Nether, he'd never seen them. Though the things he's heard paint a very... mixed picture).

People like Technoblade have been able to live in relative peace with humans in their towns and villages for nearly a decade, the bigotry of the past dwindling to a mere memory. Though being a hybrid _is_ still a solid basis for childhood teasing.

As for his status as an orphan, he doesn't remember his mother or his father, and Piglins are awful creatures who don't see him as one of them anyway; the beasts chasing him out of their settlements time and time again.

Simon Hypixel, the ringleader of the Hypixel Tournament Fighting Ring, is more of a father to Technoblade than either of his parents ever were. Back in the early days of the tournament fighting ring, when it was a few people per day in a pit somewhere near the ocean of lava, the ringleader had found a young Technoblade alone in a small cavern. The child had impaled a baby Hoglin with a stick, eating the sour flesh raw.

He was feral.

Wild.

He ran around mob settlements and raided markets, killed young creatures, and avoided contact with anything else entirely. He didn't even know how to speak. 

Had he ever even had a real name? If he did, he didn't know it.

To this day Technoblade doesn't know _exactly_ how old he is, either. He only knows that he's now around nineteen. When Hypixel found him, he must have only been six at the most.

What the ringleader saw in him, Technoblade could really only imagine. At first, he had thought it was kindness and pity that had led the man to take the animal child from his cave; teaching him to speak in human tongues and read books, dressed him up, and had given him status and a rank as Hypixel's promising young hybrid ward within a year of his (forceful) adoption. (Technoblade had tried to kill him upon initially meeting the human. And quite a few times after that, as well).

(With his little pointy stick).

He sat with Hypixel for every fight over the years. The ring grew more and more massive, eventually reaching the ears of even the most Underground of criminals. Everyone wanted to take a bit of the glory for themselves. (Not to mention the audience gambling and the victor's prize money involved.) It had soon become the Underground's most profitable trade, and he was right under the head of it.

Technoblade loved it. He idolized Hypixel for everything he ran and believed. That only the strong and smart were rewarded down here; the weak getting nothing. The boy would watch with wide, saucer-like red eyes; his body tensed with excitement as champion took the place of champion; blood spilled for blood. It was invigorating. 

It gave his formerly meaningless life purpose.

Where before Technoblade had been surviving, watching the fights let him live.

It didn't take long for Hypixel to start training him to properly fight.

At first, it was simple; the man teaching Technoblade to fight correctly by fencing with little wooden practice swords. The then-child was a natural, but fierce and erratic with his fighting habits, his swings wild and uncoordinated. They were extremely dangerous and unpredictable. 

But as Technoblade grew older and more controlled with his hand, he grew more and more calculating to the point where he could target an enemy's weak points as soon as they stepped up to him in combat. Hypixel had stopped fighting with him as Technoblade grew even more skilled and tactical with his combat, but told him to keep practicing with dummies.

When he wasn't training, Technoblade buried himself in imported tales and philosophical works from the Overworld. Tales of old Gods and wings of wax and speeches about war. Epics detailing the human mind and condition.

He sharpened his own mind like a blade, building it up like muscles.

It was his deadliest weapon, his intelligence; for no-one in their right mind would think a Piglin-hybrid would be of the same mental level as an Overworld scholar.

But he also had a... respect for the tales and the philosophy. He revered them as part of history, even if many of them were fiction. 

Odysseus, Achilles, Theseus, Icarus, Socrates, Plato, and so many others.

They were history to _him._

Ask Technoblade about a Classic and he could quote anything off the top of his head without thinking about it.

His first fight in a tournament, even the criminals who came to gamble on the fights were appalled at the notion of a hybrid, who was barely a teenager, participating, despite most of them knowing he was Hypixel's ward. He brought in no betters and wasn't expected to win a single fight. (no betters is an exaggeration. He had a few pity gambles). Technoblade was underestimated both physically, _and_ mentally. Fighters throughout the tournament seemed to take it easy on him, leaving his calculating brutality to catch them off-guard.

He brought in his first victory that day.

And a LOT of money.

He had... _won._

Technoblade, a thirteen-year-old Piglin hybrid with his tusks barely starting to pass his lips who was plucked from the wild and liked to read old epics in the dark had found... triumph. And happiness. It was a rush unlike anything he had ever felt before; the crowd screaming his name, his unconscious opponent being hauled off from in front of him, the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he fought not for survival, but for glory. That he was finally one of the fortunate and strong.

The blood tasted like victory. 

Where before Hypixel had only really referred to him as "kid", or "little warrior", now the formerly displaced child had a new name. 

A new identity forged using both mind and iron.

Technoblade.

Everyone had a fighting name if they participated in the ring, but Technoblade's was his full name.

A crown forged with melted gold was dropped on his head of unruly dark pink hair, twinkling with the light of the Nether's perpetually flickering flames.

He only ever took it off in his room to this very day.

Nobody had ever been able to take it away from him.

The day after his first victory, Technoblade had been sitting at his and Hypixel's breakfast table in an abandoned hall that they used as a kitchen. He was messing with his crown, Hypixel's gaze glimmering not with pride, but with satisfaction. Technoblade hadn't noticed at the time. 

But he knew now.

 _"You're so much better than the rest of them, Techno."_ He had muttered in a passable imitation of fondness, his hand ruffling the boy's hair. _"Never forget it, okay? I'm counting on you, little warrior."_ Technoblade had looked at him with stars in his eyes.

_"I know."_

As the fights went on, his thirst for victory grew stronger and stronger with every tournament. He brought in more and more money for Hypixel, and more and more fighters wanted to test their luck against the child. If they beat him, they knew they would have it made the rest of their lives.

Technoblade unwittingly contributed to the massive growth Hypixel Tournament Fighting Ring had witnessed during those years, and had been contributing since then. 

He had just been too blinded by success to see it at the time.

Maybe if he had noticed what was going on sooner, he would have left before _it_ happened.

Technoblade was fourteen. (most likely. again, he doesn't really know for sure).

He had been the consecutive tournament champion for just over a year, and the competition was becoming more and more fierce. People were flocking to the ring to see if they could defeat Technoblade and take the title as the best PVPer of the ring, removing him from his throne. 

As the competition became smarter and more serious, so did Technoblade. He was not about to lose everything he was building his life around, losing the praise of Hypixel in the process. 

He _needed_ to stay number one. 

It was all he knew.

All he wanted.

There was a challenger making his way through this particular tournament. They had the audience restless and whispering; murmurs that the fighter could overtake Technoblade and knock him back down to size.

The fight was the last of the tournament, Technoblade having easily made it through the ranks of fighters like he always does. He heard the rumors, but had shrugged them off, ready to face the opponent like he always did.

It was just another insignificant desperate human from the Overworld seeking glory, like all of the others.

An insignificant human who, to Technoblade's horror, immediately managed to disarm him and send his blade clattering against the far wall. The sword flew so fast it left a chink in the Nether brick. They shot forwards, blocking every desperate swing by his clawed hands with their own blade, snapping one of his wrists. 

It was a fear he had never felt before.

_He was going to lose._

Technoblade couldn't let that happen.

Ever.

He could practically _feel_ the disappointed stare already being trained on him from Hypixel. 

What if Hypixel kicked him out??!

In a moment of sheer horror and desperation, he had let out a guttural scream, yanked the crown off his head, and swung it outwards. It sank into their flesh, carving a neat dip through the fabric of their shirt and scooping out their entire heart. Blood sprayed onto his face, painting his pale skin red and dying the white shirt crimson.

It was still beating when the fighter fell and he dropped it onto the ground.

He was numb.

The crowd was silent.

His own heart, secure and alive in his chest, was pounding. The blood was roaring in his ears.

Did he... did he really do that?!

Technoblade had stared at his viscera-coated hands, the workers too shocked to even come to clean up the carnage. His shattered left wrist was sending burning, blinding waves of pain up his arm.

But he couldn't feel it.

The adrenaline was thrilling, the feeling of ending something so precisely... _satisfying._

It scared him. It filled him with euphoria.

Hypixel hadn't just clapped for his ward as he always did. No, he stood up, his hands meeting each other rhythmically, his eyes glowing like a butcher eyeing a prime cut of pork. Technoblade had stared, quivering, at the ringleader, who met his eyes and gave an approving nod.

One of satisfaction.

That was when competitors first began to kill. It was like they had all waited for someone to do it first. To this day, not everyone dies, but many do.

That was also when Technoblade began to understand. He began to understand at fourteen years old that it wasn't kindness _or_ pity that led Hypixel to take him from that cave. He understood that it was an opportunity for success and a chance for his criminal hustle to grow even faster than it was already. Hypixel, a man who gave opportunities to the desperate for money by gambling or fighting in the tournaments, took in a wild, savage homeless hybrid child and gave him a rank and status and a point to his life: fighting. Everyone had assumed, unbeknownst to him, that it was only a matter of time before Technoblade killed someone in cold blood. He raked in profit then, and even more after _it_ happened. The realization was both an odd weight off his shoulders and crushing at the same time.

Humans are bloodthirsty bastards.

Now, because of Technoblade's set example, whoever died in the tournaments would have compensation sent to anyone in their immediate family, even if they weren't there for the money.

That's when Technoblade became the Blood God.

He became a legend, slaughtering competitor after competitor without so much as a grimace. And the thing is... he was _good_ at it. He _LIKED_ being good at it. Fighting always had come naturally for Technoblade. It was in his DNA. It was something he could do, to live his life for. 

If he didn't fight, then what else was there for him in the world?

Up in the Overworld, people only knew of the "Blood God". They didn't know of Technoblade. 

He wasn't anybody without his title. He was just an animal.

That's why initially, he didn't care about what he saw in Hypixel's eyes that day.

But spending years with increasing amounts of people changes your view pretty quickly. Where before, the other humans were something untouchable and foreign that he could slay without a second thought, now there were more and more of them wanting to talk to him. To shake his hand. To ask him questions. Calling him "Mr. Blood God" or "The Blade".

That's when he realized something else, at seventeen. That these humans were _people._

No matter how terrible some of them may be, they all have lives like his and reasons to keep living as he does.

He loves to fight.

He loves to _kill._

He craves the taste of blood.

But he doesn't like to fight.

He doesn't like to kill.

Technoblade both loves and _hates_ what he does in that arena of Netherrack and brick.

The blood-stained rock beneath his feet. It's where he belongs.

He couldn't leave if he wanted to. He was a monster now, who contributes to society by killing. Besides the person he first killed, there had only been one other competitor who came close to winning, ending many tournaments with Technoblade in a draw before he stopped coming. But everyone else he met in battle died.

His hands are covered with hundreds of people's worth in blood.

You just can't see it all.

Finally, Technoblade tore his eyes away from the twinkling golden headpiece, bringing himself back into the present. The curly tail that poked from beneath the hem of his shirt drooped lifelessly as he let the exhaustion from the earlier tournament bog him down. The fights, while exhilarating in the midst of one, take a lot out of a person. The victory weighs on his mind for hours.

Technoblade doesn't sleep very much.

The fighter rubbed his knuckles into his eyes as he flopped onto a small chair beside his desk with a groan. Today had been a particularly long day. Hypixel had had some important guest and refused to talk to Technoblade at all whenever he approached him. It was frustrating, but he did that whenever some criminal lord or whoever came to talk about merging or profits or some other Underground bull. Technoblade had given up on sitting in at those dinners a long time ago.

He glanced over at the small window in the wall, gazing out at a lake of bubbling lava, his legs stretched out in front of him. It was calm and quiet in his room, and right now, that was what he needed. The soft light from the magma outside set his few furniture items and shelf of books alight in flickering orange. Technoblade untied the red sash wrapped around his waist, shifting in the chair until the blood-caked material was in his hands. His clawed nails tore at the fabric as he bunched it up in his hands with a snarl, sitting up and throwing it against the wall with all the energy he could muster. Technoblade slumped back into his chair with a sigh, dragging a bloody hand over his face.

He could clean up later; sleep was more important right now.  
That was another good thing about being part Piglin. He didn't care about being messy.

A whine sounded from the corner, and a small fluffy white shape slipped from behind Technoblade's bed. It hopped up onto his lap, startling the fighter into a "heh?!" The little dog cocked his head to the side and planted its front paws on Technoblade's chest, licking the gore from his face. (The dog was somehow always able to avoid his tusks, which pointed up to his lower eyelids at this point). The fighter blinked, chuckling slightly as he pushed the dog's wet muzzle away from his own scarred nose.

"Get down, Floof." He chastised softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. He rubbed a hand over the dog's fuzzy head, scratching behind the floppy ears. "It's good to see ya, buddy." Floof gave another little whine, nuzzling into the fighter's palm.

Everyone knew that Technoblade had a dog, but nobody had actually seen the real thing, as the Nether was a dangerous place for harmless little animals. Technoblade had heard rumors spreading around that it was a big bloodthirsty guard dog - a straight-up tamed wolf. And... come on. He wasn't about to _correct_ them. The tiny little snow-white ball of energy on Technoblade's legs was the furthest thing from what people would expect him to have, and he loved that. Floof had been a birthday gift (they had made up a birthday for Technoblade so they could celebrate) of sorts from Hypixel two years ago, who had expected the little canine to grow bigger and more intimidating. 

It was the first time Technoblade had ever had a best friend.

It took him a while to figure out why he would have an animal not for food, but for companionship. Months had passed before he cared about it at all, which led to him starting to appreciate the dog for its odd capacity to understand how he was feeling.

Like right now. He smiled even wider as Floof's tongue lolled out of his mouth and he rolled onto his back. Technoblade rubbed his belly, leaning back into the chair again and staring up at the ceiling. 

A few minutes passed in peace before Floof gave another small whine. Technoblade looked down at his dog, who was staring right back at him expectantly. The fighter sighed good-naturedly, rubbing Floof's head again.

"You're hungry, huh?" Floof stuck his tongue out in ascension. Technoblade gave a resigned huff and gently pushed the dog off his lap, brushing the fur from his pants and getting to his hooved feet with a stretch. Floof circled his legs, tail wagging and eyes bright. Technoblade walked over to the door, pulling his tangled hair back with a hair-tie and resting his crown on his head. "Alright, alright, I'm goin'. I might as well get somethin' too. I didn't eat dinner."

He clicked open the door, leaving with a little wave to Floof as he walked into the brick halls of the stronghold. As he made his way through the hot, winding corridors and flights of stairs, Technoblade's slouched, lazy demeanor instantly vanished. He walked with a blank face and a straight back. The heels of his boots clipped uniformly against the brick and his arms were crossed over his chest. His clothes were still caked in blood, but he really didn't care. All Technoblade cared about now was getting food without having to talk to anyone, and the blood was a tool to help him achieve that goal. 

After a long, uneventful walk, Technoblade emerged into the stands of the fighting ring stadium. People were still bunched around, arguing about money and bets, placing future bets, eating food from the stands, just having a good time, all that jazz. It had been only an hour since the last tournament concluded, so it was natural that so many people were still here. It's not like the stadium workers made it a point to kick everyone out exactly when shit ended. That would just be bad business. Even Technoblade knew that. 

He looked around for a second, steeling himself before heading for a food vendor. Already, people noticed him. There were gasps and terrified whispers from throughout the stands. From the corner of his eyes, he could see people pointing at him as he walked. Spoiled little rich kids of the Underground criminals were shouting loudly, trying to run up to Technoblade and touch him. 

Maybe pull his tail. Kids really liked to pull his tail, for some reason. 

Adults moved fearfully out of his way as he passed them. He could feel their gazes pinned on his back. It was everything Technoblade could do to not flush with irritation.

 _'Damn... I should've brought my cloak. Way to go, Technoblade.'_ He thought to himself as only ten. fucking. feet from the food stand, a little kid intercepted him, blocking his path to food and relaxation. Other than a twitch of an eyebrow, Technoblade was all calm as he tilted his head down to look at the child. 

"Hullo." He said to the kid, who had widened his eyes significantly at the one word of greeting. It was not exactly a greeting befitting a Blood God, to be fair. Technoblade cursed himself internally. He greeted people like Hypixel like that all the time, but not random children of criminals. Lovely. With a quick upward glance, Technoblade could see whom he assumed to be the kid's friends peeking their heads from behind the food stand, the vendor looking irritated but tolerant. When they saw him look at them, one gave a squeak and they vanished from view. The fighter sighed slightly as he glanced back down at the kid in front of him, who was twiddling his thumbs. He raised an eyebrow. The kid started, still staring at him.

His friends were back, and they were still staring. Great. Children are _fantastic._ Why did the audience even think bringing children to a competitive bloodbath was a good idea anyway?

"U... um... Mr. uh... Mr. Blade?" The little boy stammered, beginning to tremble. Technoblade decided to go along with the kid for a second if it meant he got out of his way faster. More people were openly staring now. Some were tense as if they expected him to pull a sword and just slaughter a kid. This child had to only be like, seven, come on.

He just wants some pork, man.

And if he knew anything, it was that he didn't think kids made pork. He may be cold-blooded and heartless to these people, but we wasn't going to stab a seven-year-old.

"Yeah...?" Technoblade responded, having to physically restrain himself from looking longingly at the food. People were still staring. A few had even pulled out blades of their own. 

Dramatic, much? It's not like he's _never_ spoken to someone before.

"Uh... w... well, my friends think you're going to hurt me if I do this. You won't h... hurt me, right...?" He stammered again, his eyes wide and innocent; in stark contrast to the man before him. Technoblade looked around for a moment before dropping down and crouching on one knee to meet the kid's eyes. The kid crossed his arms, clutching his sleeves like he was trying to be brave. The others around them looked even more afraid now that the bloody hybrid fighter had gotten down to the kid's level. Technoblade sighed again, doing what he does best and ignoring the peanut gallery.

"No, I won't hurt you." He stated simply, watching as the child visibly relaxed a little. There was even a bit of a smile now. Technoblade's own face was still purposely kept blank.

"Oh... g.. good. Well, my friends think you're really evil and scary, but I... I think you're really brave..." He mumbled the last part, still not looking entirely comfortable. Technoblade raised his eyebrows in surprise. That was not where he was expecting this conversation to go. He said nothing, waiting for the child to gather enough courage to continue. "S... so I told them they were wrong and that I would give you this to p... prove it..." The kid held out a tiny little wooden pig that had been clutched in a fist, which looked like it was hand-carved by a parent or something. Once again, this caught the fighter by surprise. He outstretched his own hand, letting the kid drop the little animal into his palm. Technoblade peered at it closely. It was just a simple little pig. Like one you might find on a farm. 

He'd never actually seen a real one before, but he'd seen pictures in his books. It was... honestly really cute. He poked the side of the figure's head before curling his fingers around it and tucking it into a pocket. He looked back up at the child, who still looked nervous, but also a little eager.

"Thanks." He thanked the kid, silently reveling in the bright grin that spread across the boy's face. Without another word, the boy dipped his head and sprinted off in the other direction. His friends joined his sprint away, squealing. Technoblade watched the kids leave, the adults around relaxing a little, but still eyeing him carefully. The fighter stood back up and walked the remaining few feet to the food stand undisturbed. The worker, who was a kind middle-aged mother who for some reason didn't shy away in fear whenever he said a single word to her, and whom Technoblade knew pretty well since he bought food here often, looked at him with an amused gleam in her eyes. 

"Didn't take you as a guy who liked children, Blade." She joked, resting her elbows on the wooden counter-top. Technoblade rolled his eyes and grabbed some coins from a little sack in his pocket. 

"I dunno. Who says I wasn't tryin' to get them to trust me so I could eat them?" He deadpanned right back, sliding the coins to the woman. She laughed as she turned and slapped a chunk of pork onto the portable stove-top behind the stand. 

"Don't say that, you're driving away the customers!" She joked, motioning behind her with an arm while looking down at the pork. Technoblade looked around, seeing all the people that usually milled around the food stand after tournaments had backed away considerably. He gave an audible sigh and leaned onto the counter-top as she added with a slight mock-whine, "Plus, that means you wouldn't buy from me anymore...!"

"You think I'm jokin'." The fighter listed his head to the side, the crown on it sliding through his hair a little. He tapped absently at a tusk, still aware of the viscera all over him. She chuckled, flipping the pork with an old spatula. 

"Oh no, I don't. You're terrifying and vicious, and I know you prey on the innocent, young, and elderly." She imitated his monotone, putting the pork and a couple of fatty bones into a paper bag. It was what he ordered every time. He gave her a good-natured shrug, turning and leaving without another word.

Leaving the stadium allowed Technoblade to finally let his shoulders slump a little, and to let a thoughtful expression settle onto his face. Going down there in his spare time was not something he liked to do, but this time had been... almost pleasant. He fished around in his pocket while he walked, taking out the little wooden pig. Even though the kid had looked about ready to piss himself, he had still talked to Technoblade and had given him something like fan-art. It was a first, to say the least. It, much to Technoblade's surprise, warmed his heart. 

The expression melted into an easy smile as he opened the door to his room, a cheery dog who knew he was about to eat circling his ankles as he shut it again. He chuckled as he set the greasy paper bag onto his desk and slid the crown from his head. Floof whined and pawed at the leg of the furniture that hosted the item of his desire. Technoblade still clutched the small carving, staring at it for longer than what would be considered normal. He blinked as Floof walked over and pawed at his calf. 

"Hold on, Floof. Lemme just...." The fighter trailed off as he set the figure on his little bedside table, his smile warm. The snowy dog barked; a snippy little bark that was almost like a snap. Technoblade sighed and opened the bag, dropping the bones onto the brick floor. Floof quieted instantly. The fighter bent over and patted the dog's head before sitting back down on his chair, munching on the charred pork. 

The room once again settled into a comfortable silence, Technoblade having opened a book. One hand gripped the pork, the other had the book. Moments like these, where he felt human and... normal... they were nice. 

They never seem to last long... 

Technoblade jumped in surprise as someone rapped on his door. Floof, still occupied with the bones, didn't do anything to ward off the visitor like usual, so Technoblade heaved a sigh and got up. The fighter wiped the grease from his meal on his pants, put on his crown, and opened the door, an eyebrow raised in question. 

It was one of Technoblade's workers. One of the people who cleaned the ring up after him, draped him in his cape, and carried out the bodies. This was one of the ones Technoblade knew the best. A cat hybrid who worked as a notifier. Ant-something-or-other. 

Technoblade never really bothered with learning names. 

"Hullo." He greeted the other man, who dipped his head in response.

"Hey. Technoblade, Hypixel wants you." Ant-something told him, his eyes both sympathetic and saying _'He's not happy.'_

The fighter frowned, looked back at a still-eating Floof, and walked through the doorway to Ant-something. He shut the door behind him and glanced at the worker, who had already started to hurry through the torch-lit hall. 

"So what does he need?" Technoblade asked, clasping his hands behind his back. The other hybrid waved his brown-tipped tail, giving him a shrug.

"I'm not sure. He just said it was something really important." Ant-something stopped as they reached the big oak double doors that led into Hypixel's personal study. He shot Technoblade another shrug before turning and promptly leaving. Technoblade scowled at his retreating back and pushed open the doors.

"Simon? Did you want somethin'?" He asked a sitting Simon Hypixel who was reading a book. Or... pretending to read a book. He looked borderline distraught, creases forming between his eyebrows and his skin an unhealthy pallor. Something Technoblade knew about his surrogate father was that he _never_ lost his composure. No matter the rowdiness of a crowd, the disrespect of some other criminal lord, anything. Hypixel always kept his cool.

Seeing him so unnerved was disconcerting. Hypixel waved him over, seeming to try and collect himself somewhat. Technoblade walked over and sat down in an armchair opposite the couch the ringleader himself was resting on. 

"Simon?" Technoblade tried again, fidgeting slightly with worry. No matter how terrible Hypixel may be, Technoblade still did care about the man who gave him a home. Hypixel looked up at him, straightening slightly and folding his hands over his lap.

"Techno, I have a very important job for you to do." He paused, letting out a small sigh.

"And you better not mess it up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had this idea when I was watching Jschlatt's "Ranking More Minecraft Parodies" stream VOD, when he called Technoblade about Blitz.  
> I thought it was funny, and certain parts of the conversation gave me an idea for a short Techno-fic. So here we are. I'm on a writing kick, and I'm pretty happy to be writing this!  
> This will be updated every other Sunday; only going to be eight chapters total.  
> Hope this is okay! I took some liberties with the characters and made them... characters. They're not all going to be just like they are in real life. (Though I do know that Technoblade said he likes the pig designs of him in fanart more, so I tried to make him more pig-like without making him a full animal. I also know that he rejects SBI canon, so I decided to play with the dynamic!)  
> Thank you for reading!! If you have any criticism or notice any errors, please let me know!! <3 I always appreciate feedback!
> 
> Disclaimer: EVERYONE NAMED IN THIS FIC IS A REAL-LIFE PERSON!! ALL SITUATIONS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF THESE PEOPLE ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND ARE NOT MEANT TO REPRESENT THE CREATORS AS A WHOLE.


	2. Travel by Night, be Dead by Daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood, Description of Injury, and Violence

_"Techno, I have a very important job for you to do, and you better not mess it up."_

_Technoblade stared at his father figure in contemplation. The exhausted tone of voice Hypixel spoke with right then immediately set off several red flags in his head. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the gaze that he pinned on the young fighter._

_Something bad had happened, and Technoblade was being called on to fix it._

_Something very, very bad._

_A sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as the tense silence between the men descended on them, only the crackling of the perpetually-lit fireplace being bold enough to challenge it. Hypixel, for once, wasn't forcing Technoblade to speak like he so often did. Technoblade was a man of few words, and the ringleader perceived his long silences and lulls in conversations as disrespect._

_The only thing about Technoblade that was loud was his own mind._

_But he didn't ever talk about that._

_The fact that Hypixel was letting Technoblade be in his own head... well that was just another thing to add to Technoblade's mental 'Oh God Something's Wrong' list. The hybrid looked down at his hands, slowly clenching them into fists on his lap. The claw-like nails he donned left crescent-shaped imprints in his pale skin as he mulled this statement over. If he questioned it like he was defying Hypixel, he knew it would probably send the man off the mental diving board that he was already teetering on._

_Technoblade may not like the man, but he still provided everything he lived for, after all. Selfish? Of course._

_But Technoblade's never been a generous one._

_The pinkette inhaled softly, meeting his father's eyes with a blank face._

_To not fight was to not die._

_Technoblade knew that Hypixel wouldn't let him just walk away. From the fighting ring or this 'job' that he was supposedly going on. This was what he had to do, so he would do it without complaint. Especially since it seemed, from the mannerisms Hypixel was displaying in front of him, that something larger was at stake here._

_"What are you having me do?" He asked, his nails still digging into the flesh on his hands. Hypixel started, worrying his bottom lip. Something else Technoblade had never seen him do before._

_"What you do best, Techno." The ringleader paused and ran a hand through his mussed hair as he added, "What you do best..._ _"_

_"But won't the tournaments be unable to function without me?" Technoblade brought up, raising an eyebrow. It wasn't bragging, it was just the factual truth. Hypixel shook his head._

_"I'll keep them going and just keep the victors on standby to fight you at a later date, I guess." Hypixel stared intently at his son. "As I said, you're doing what you do best. This should be a short job."_

_Technoblade thought on it a moment longer, wondering if he meant what he thought he meant. If it was true, this was going to be a short job, indeed. The hybrid heaved a sigh and got to his feet._

_"Lemme say bye to Floof, then."_

//||\\\

_"What you do best..."_

The parting conversation echoed through his head as he landed on the ground with a grunt and an _'oof!'_ Technoblade's head spun and it took all of his focus not to retch all over the surface beneath his hands and knees.

 _'Okay... note to self... portal-travel is definitely the worst way to get around. Ever.'_ He thought with a grumble as he pressed his face into the ground to ward off the dizziness that pervaded his vision. His eyes were squeezed shut and his crown and cape had come dislodged during the teleportation, the articles tossed to the side a few feet. The portal itself shimmered innocently behind him, emitting little purple particles and clouds of smoke. 

Technoblade himself was now lying face-down on the ground, still not sure if he could stand. The entire teleportation process had only taken less than a minute, but it was tight and dizzying. Not a great way to get places, he'd admit that. But he had to leave the Nether for the job, as it took place in the Overworld. Technoblade was told that he would have to meet with President Schlatt in his home in the nearest village, which also just so happened to be the capital.

A large village Hypixel called 'Manberg'.

It was a dumb name, in Technoblade's opinion, but to each his own.

Despite the conversation being two days ago, he really didn't have time to pack anything and was only able to say a few words to Floof as Hypixel wanted him to get in some last fights. Before he teleported, he had been escorted by a goose that wore a belt with a crossbow around it's middle. It pushed him away from the stronghold and through the landscape of the Nether before roughly shoving him into the portal with a honk. Not the best way to leave the place he'd never been apart from and into a whole new ecosystem, but as Hypixel so eloquently put it, he'd 'get used to it'. He hadn't heard or felt the goose since he arrived, which only means it had finally pissed off and left him alone. 

A few more minutes passed before Technoblade raised his head, annoyed at something that was tickling his nose. The fighter snorted and opened his eyes, staring down to see what had touched him. He had already drawn his blade, which had been wrapped in the red satin around his waist. 

But it wasn't a creature OR a mob.

It was...

Grass.

Grass and dirt and... he looked around in amazement. And trees! Everywhere he looked, growing in a wide circle around him were tall, imposing trees. Little shoots with colorful blossoms poked from the Earth in sporadic patterns throughout the little clearing.

Technoblade looked down at the grass beneath his hands again and got to his knees, running his palms over the long, flowy stems in wonder. 

That explained the... almost _sweet_ scent that he smelled when he was laying down. The fighter ran a hand over his face, rubbing off splotches of wet, earthy soil. The grass was the color of emeralds, and the trees rustled peacefully above his head.

Through the branches came sweet, golden dappled sunlight. The light rippled around the grass, flickering over his skin and glinting off of his sword, which had dropped with a muffled _'thud'_.

 _Real sunlight...!_

Now Technoblade was dizzy for another reason entirely.

It was... warm.

But it was cold.

It was the coldest he'd ever felt before. In the Nether, there were literal lakes of _lava_ and the ground never stopped burning. Humans often had to drink things to combat the harsh temperatures, such as potions of fire resistance. Those were expensive yet popular amongst the Underground-goers.

Those thoughts are when it hit Technoblade like a truck. 

It _wasn't_ cold. Yet the fighter had still started to shiver, leading him to believe that his body was just not acclimated to this sudden change in climate. He looked around, hesitant to leave the soft foreign ground behind, but ready to get moving so he could get this job over with and go home to where he was needed. Technoblade got to his feet with a stretch and walked over to fetch his coat and his crown, resting the fluffy red fabric over his shoulders and the crown on his head. The familiar weight on his scalp instantly calmed his rapidly accelerating heart rate, and the cape hugging his arms reduced the tremors of cold. Though his skin was still covered in goosebumps. Lime-green stains from the grass were wet on his knees, already having soaked through his pants. 

Already feeling a little more comfortable with this situation, Technoblade bent over, picked up his sword, and tucked it into his sash. He knew that out of the people in this town, very few of them knew of what the Blood God actually looked like. Only his legend. So... with that in mind, it would probably earn him some pretty negative attention looking so battle-ready, but you never know what might come up. 

_Especially_ when you do what he does.

The fighter took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air properly for the first time. The breath was cool and refreshing, free of the reek of smoke and charred stone that he had grown accustomed to. Though it did make his nose feel... almost empty, if that makes sense. He shook his head, the salmon-colored ponytail under his crown whipping against his sides. It would be a shame to leave the peace of this clearing. Technoblade _hated_ large concentrations of people. 

The largest group he'd been apart of was only the leftover crowds from the tournaments. Not cities full of people doing their own thing.

Technoblade already knew this was not going to be a fun trip. 

Finally, after standing rooted to the spot and just drinking in the air for far too long, Technoblade huffed, tucked his cape tighter around his shoulders, and pushed his way out of the clearing and away from the portal. The first thing the hybrid noticed was the air of vacantness that this forest exuded. It was thick, wild, dark, and dense. A long glance around didn't show a path, and if there was one, it was covered by the spiky bushes and long grass. Technoblade grit his teeth and started forwards, heading even deeper into the trees. He tore through the undergrowth and tangled brambles with his claws as he trekked through the vast woods, trying to find anything that resembled a trail.

Or maybe a river.

He'd heard that rivers here were actual water instead of lava. 

Now, one thing you should know about Technoblade is his uncanny ability to navigate directions and find locations. Despite never having seen the sun before, the fighter was taught by Hypixel, who had, which directions were which, and how to follow them both in the Nether and the Overworld. 

The spoiled little rich kids who teased him when he was younger liked to refer to him as "The Human GPS". Technoblade thinks they meant it as an insult, but he always prided himself on his geographical and navigational prowess.

To this day, he's never gotten lost. 

The nickname has been pretty much forgotten by others, especially considering Technoblade was less human now than he'd ever been, but he still liked to think about it from time to time. 

Again, Technoblade shook his head to clear his thoughts. Now was not the time for remembering obscure nicknames from his childhood. He had to get out of this stupid forest and find Manberg. That was his goal right now. Not to mention he couldn't even see the sun. 

Why couldn't his hyper-focus ever work when he wanted it to?

He huffed as he continued to fight his way through the foliage. Never having been in a forest before, this was tough going. Between his slashing, climbing, running from skeletons that shot at him from the shade of the trees but he just couldn't seem to spot, and stopping to hunt some random herd of cows that stood by a small pond, it took a full day and then some just for the fighter to leave the trees at last. Technoblade had fallen from the portal around early morning. A full night had passed (without sleep), and the sun was smack-dab in the middle of the sky once again, beating down on the dirty, battered figure that finally stumbled from the greenery. He had to raise an arm to shield his eyes from the sudden sunlight, which was no longer being obscured by a dense canopy of tree branches. 

Technoblade grumbled to himself and had to heavily squint to observe the new surroundings. Once again, he felt dizzy and overwhelmed.

He was definitely not in Kansas anymore.

There were still trees scattered around, but the land around him had mainly opened out into large grassy fields speckled with blossoms and shrubs and cliffs and hills. There were a LOT of animals just milling around and eating the grass. There was also some weird yellow-striped bug that buzzed around and confused Technoblade to no end as they stuck their little bug-faces in the flowers. 

And there was still no road.

Or path.

Or river.

No anything.

Just a lot of green and a lot of blue. The fighter peered up at the sky, wincing slightly as his Nether-suited eyes burned from the light. It was so bright and wide and expansive, looking like it never ended. Technoblade's stomach swooped and he had to look down. Beautiful? Yes. Terrifying and endless? Yep. 

Lovely. 

Taking a deep breath, the pinkette sat down and slid his scratched face into his equally-as-beat-up hands. Why Hypixel didn't think to give him a map or directions of any kind was probably telling of Technoblade's own skill, but the fighter wasn't expecting everything up here to be so overwhelming. 

_'Guess it's not called the Overworld for nothin'.'_ He thought to himself with a wry chuckle into his hands. The footsteps of animals on the grass and dirt filled his eardrums as he tried to force himself not to panic under the bright blue void above his head. His breathing was deep as Technoblade took calming breaths to ground himself to the here and now. 

Living your whole life underneath layers of rocks and minerals then suddenly, with little warning, being dumped above that layer into what looks like the great beyond? Yeah, not very ideal at all. 

Sitting there on that grassy hill underneath the sun and the sky made him feel small and insignificant. It was a feeling he didn't like at all. The Overworld had proven itself to be absolutely gorgeous and teeming with life, but there was something existential about coming up here for the first time that set the fighter on edge. 

Time passed in relative quiet, Technoblade refusing to move from his spot at risk of a panic attack. It had been so long since his last one, and he didn't want to break that streak. So he fixated his gaze through his fingers on the grass beneath him, watching a line of little black insects march across one of his boots. Ants, he thinks they're called. 

As the hours passed, the sun set and darkness fell over his hunched form. Technoblade drew in a breath and gathered the courage to look up at the sky, remembering the warnings he used to get from Hypixel about traveling alone at night. It was now completely pitch-black, speckled with clouds and beautiful, twinkling little stars. He widened his eyes, the light from the stars reflecting back in his red eyes, which tended to gleam in darkness. Great. He'd wasted a whole day doing nothing when he had a job to do. 

With a resigned huff, Technoblade stood up, brushing dirt and sediment from his pants. Now he'd have to make up for the lost time and travel another night. An ear twitched, already picking up on the growls and rattling that accompanied this place's horrors of the night. All of the animals had fled once the sun set below the tips of the trees, so he really was alone again. 

Technoblade looked up at the moon, which astounded him into stillness until a _'woosh'_ and a whistle shot right in front of his face. An arrow, embedded into the ground by his feet. That had been so close it took a pink strand of hair from his head. The fighter blinked dumbly at it for a second before three more flew at him from the cover of the trees. Fighter instincts kicking in, he ducked and rolled forwards, using the momentum to break into a sprint. Now he had wasted even more time and had to look up at the moon for directions while running. Pounding footsteps echoed his own, and he was aware of the rank smell of rotting flesh wafting all around him. Picking a direction, he settled on heading North. Technoblade drew his sword and kept running, weaving through trees and narrowly dodging arrows that were now flying at him from what seemed like every direction. These were the moments he liked being a hybrid. As a Piglin hybrid, Technoblade has always been able to see fantastically in the dark. It's why his eyes glow in the first place. Hypixel used to tease him that he had the eyes of a cat. 

Ducking behind a birch tree to avoid another projectile, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, which had started to rattle in his chest. He had to shake his head to stop the memories again. They were distracting him, and he was already bleeding from a clip on his shoulder by an arrow he hadn't been able to avoid. 

Yeah, this was definitely not going to be a fun trip. 

This place somehow had even more monsters than the Nether, and it was surprising he wasn't even made aware of this until he arrived. 

Before he knew it, Technoblade was knocked into on his side, falling heavily onto the grass with another weight bearing down on top of him. The fighter reeled his head back as far as he could against the stench of the zombie that was now trying to chew his head off. Where had it even come from?! Technoblade, through watery eyes, grabbed his dropped sword and held it up to block the zombie's lunges, now pinned down underneath the larger creature. It scratched at him and kicked him in the ribs, but Technoblade knew the only thing he really had to avoid was the teeth, which were wildly snapping at his face, chest pushing against his blade. Arrows were still zipping at the bark of the tree above them. The fighter bared his teeth right back, the points of his tusks digging into the flesh beneath his eyelids as he dared to take a hand from the sword and rake his nails down the zombie's own face. It growled and pulled back for a moment, giving Technoblade enough time to take the handle of his sword and swing the sharp edge of the diamond right into the zombie's neck, taking off its head. Instead of the familiar spray of blood he was expecting, pus and rot oozed from the neck as the decaying corpse fell limp onto his chest.

Once again fighting the urge to vomit, Technoblade heard more growls and shoved the body off of him, getting to his feet and re-starting the desperate sprint through the hills. He scanned the horizon for any signs of buildings or the ground for any clear path, which once again, there was none of. 

God damn, would this ever end?? This was somehow even worse than the first night, under the cover of trees.

His heart was pounding in his chest, the blood roaring in his ears and pumping hot and fast through his veins as he ran as fast as he possibly could. The fighter had lost his cape somewhere in the chaos, but his crown stayed firmly on his head. While he hated to admit it, he was probably having the time of his life. It had been so long since his blood danced and his adrenaline sung like this during a fight, him being unsure if he would even make it out alive. 

Too much victory did sometimes get a little boring after a while. 

Cursing to himself, his thoughts distracted him once more and he ran headfirst into a skeleton. The fighter tried to sidestep and was rewarded with an arrow now buried in a thigh. He snarled in pain and swung the sword, scattering the bones onto the dirt. He spotted a zombie in his peripheral and stuck the blade into its concave chest before it even raised an arm, sending it tumbling into the pile of bones. He turned back from the zombie and limped forward as fast as he could, not daring to take the arrow from his leg for fear of bleeding himself to death. He could already feel the hot trails of blood soaking through his pant leg and running into his boot. 

The fleeing didn't last very long this time.

Technoblade had ~~limped~~ ran right to the edge of a deep, deadly-looking ravine. He had almost fallen right into it, but was able to skid to a stop and stare down at the lava-filled bottom. There was another dark liquid he couldn't really make out alongside it; probably water. But now was not exactly the time to wonder about the water at the bottom. He was trapped. The ravine was way too wide for him to jump over with an arrow-stuck thigh and the opening seemed to go on for a long time. This observation was a grim one, indeed. He turned, wielding his blade with every intention to fight his way back and circle around, but what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. 

There were so. Many. Zombies and spiders and skeletons made their way toward him in an arc, all vying for the sweet taste of human flesh. Technoblade looked over his situation, backing up until his heels were over the edge of the ravine, sending little chunks of dirt down to the bottom. He still moved to dodge the arrows coming at him, though narrowly. 

Was this really how the Blood God, Slayer of Man was going to go? Stuck with an arrow and eaten by random monsters of the night? He snarled, ready to go down with a fight. Technoblade gripped his sword and swung at every creature that got close enough. Soon, there were piles of dead spiders, bones, and rotten bodies surrounding his feet, but it seemed like for every one that he slew, there were five more coming to join the group. His vision swam and his head was light from blood-loss through his leg, and he stumbled a bit, letting another arrow graze a cheek, though it mainly just hit a tusk. 

Technoblade inhaled deeply. It was a weird feeling, losing a fight. Footsteps sounded from the other side of the ravine, and Technoblade groaned, still focused on the mobs in front of him. If there really were more coming from the back, it was only a matter of time until an arrow pierced something truly important. The fighter slashed at another spider, watching with a savage satisfaction as it fell, writhing, to the dirt. A zombie came from the side and crashed into him, another joining in and another arrow sticking itself into Technoblade's shoulder. 

Well shit. This really _was_ where he was going to die.

Technoblade squirmed and struggled to fight off the monsters, the arrows stuck in his body sending blinding waves of pain through his nerves every time he rolled one onto the ground. It got to a point where he dropped his sword to the side and had to reach up and tear at them with his teeth.

"OI!!" Technoblade widened his eyes as he heard a thud, a slam, and someone shout from the other side of a ravine. It was a young-sounding voice, quickly accompanied by an even higher-pitched one.

"OVER HERE YOU DICKS!!" It shouted. Technoblade was a little too occupied to look, but the shouts distracted the mobs, sending arrows across the ravine instead of at him, which was a massive relief. The fighter found his blade and took off one of the zombie's heads, and he watched with wide eyes as an arrow flew from the opposite direction, embedding itself right into the other zombie's head and sending it crashing to the ground. 

So the voices were here to help.

He grinned wildly and staggered to his feet, turning to look over the large crack in the ground after slicing another skeleton that got too close. More arrows were flying from the other side and downing mobs left and right, and Technoblade could barely see where they were coming from. There were two tall figures, definitely human, ducked behind trees and firing from rudimentary-looking bows. One of the figures seemed to see him and pointed frantically to what Technoblade assumed made the thud. It was a thin bridge of wood that looked homemade and... admittedly not very stable. He hesitated for a second before turning on his heel completely and booking it for the wood. The fast movements made him bleed freer, and he staggered a bit, but he eventually wobbled over to the other side, kicking it into the ravine as an afterthought as some creatures tried to follow his route. One of the voices shouted at him again, both turning to flee.

"Follow us!! Can you run?" Technoblade, not wanting to look weaker than he probably already did, tucked away his sword, grit his teeth, and ran after them into the dark of another forest. He caught up to them easily, trying to hide the fact that he was wheezing like a dying cat and bleeding like one too. Once he got closer, Technoblade confirmed that his suspicions were correct. These were children, no older than fifteen. They were both pretty tall, but they still looked young in a way Technoblade hadn't in a long time. They ran easily, not bogged down by cuts, scrapes, bruised ribs, and arrow-stuck limbs that made him dizzier by the second. They were talking to each other, and the fighter could swear they were laughing about something too, but he was too focused on not running into anything to pay attention to their conversation. It also seemed like they couldn't see very well in the dark like he could, because they would both constantly stumble over rocks and vines.

After running for what seemed like an eternity, the two kids taking the responsibility of shooting any more mobs down while Technoblade tried to keep up, he started to slow down once the world began to spin like a top. They slowed as well, turning to look at him in concern.

"Hey, big man, you alright?" The taller of the two asked him, looking him over in the dark. Technoblade knew the only thing this kid could see were his freaky eyes, so it's no wonder the kid looked mystified alongside the worry. Not trusting his stomach enough to talk, he merely shook his head. The time for maintaining his pride was over. He needed help if he wasn't going to bleed to death. They blinked and hurried over to him, where he was about to literally keel over at this point. 

"Tubbo, take his right side. I've got this one." The taller kid directed in a bossy tone, taking Technoblade's heavily bleeding left arm and slinging it around his shoulders. His other arm was wrapped around the other kid's shoulders.

"Right. I've got him, Tommy." The shorter one looked up at Technoblade's eyes with a small smile. "Don't worry, we're almost to safety." Technoblade breathed in sharply through his teeth as his left arm was jerked forwards.

"Shut up, and let's get moving." 

"Tommy, be careful! He might be hurt there!" The other kid, who Technoblade now knew was called 'Tommy' merely grumbled as the kid named 'Tubbo' started to move with him. 

Moving Technoblade, a grown man who wasn't too much taller than the kids, but still had them by half-a-foot was a slow, painful, and tedious process. Since they couldn't use their weapons now that they were supporting nearly all of his weight at this point, his feet dragging through the dirt, they had to take long ways around mobs and duck behind trees and crests for extended periods of time. 

When the moon was no longer visible on the horizon and the sky was lightening a little bit, the three came across what looked to Technoblade like a tall stone tower. It was cylindrical and imposing but was also one of the ugliest buildings the hybrid had ever seen. And he lived in the Nether, so that was saying something. Throughout the walk, Technoblade had started to shiver from cold again, despite the other two being completely fine and the taller one, Tommy, was even wearing short sleeves. There wasn't much of a shadow cast by the tower as it was still pretty dark out, but there would be by daytime and that would probably just make the chill for Technoblade even worse.

"Tubbo, get the door." Tommy once again demanded. It seemed like he spoke like that a lot, and the fighter was already irritated, even half-delusional with blood-loss. 

"Righto." He responded, reluctantly letting go of Technoblade to go open the little oak door in the middle of the stone. Tommy dragged Technoblade inside, setting him down gently against the wall by the door. Technoblade blearily looked around as the kids busied themselves with lighting the torches mounted on the walls. The tower, while ugly, was comfortable. The floors were wood and the room was just a large circle with a ladder that led all the way up to the top. There was one crate full of what looked like dried fruits on the opposite end of the room, and torches were hung every few feet to combat the dark. 

Finally, the hybrid let himself relax a little bit, realizing he was, for once in his life, in no condition to fight anything. He let the back of his head rest against the stone wall, not really wanting to look at the rods of wood sticking from his flesh. 

Once the kids had finally illuminated the tower (which warmed him up considerably), they both turned back to Technoblade and walked over to him to check him out. The fighter stared at them, wishing he could laugh at the expression that took over their faces. These were definitely children who hadn't been exposed to serious violence before in their lives, and it showed. Blood was already pooling underneath Technoblade's leg and was running down his arm, dripping onto the wood. His fierce animalistic features probably weren't helping, and for a second, Technoblade could see the thought that they were only just now realizing what they had rescued glinting in their eyes.

Despite the state he was in, the hybrid let a sardonic smile curl his lips. He spat out a trail of blood before daring to speak, his voice rough and gravelly.

"I don't think... I make a very good pin... cushion." He joked between labored breaths. Now that Technoblade could fully see the kids, they were definitely as young as he had assumed. Tommy was a tall freckled blonde with a baseball-style t-shirt and a red bandanna wrapped around his neck, and Tubbo was a similarly tall brunette wearing a... suit. Technoblade also noted with surprise that the latter seemed to be a young hybrid. Little round horns poked from his hair, his ears were long, brown and fluffy, and the coattails of the suit stuck up around a little brown tail. A goat or sheep, from the looks of it. These observations just relaxed Technoblade even further. 

The blonde snorted at his joke, though still pale, and the other hybrid cracked a reluctant smile. 

"Mate... how are you not _dead_ yet??" Tommy asked as they both crouched down to meet his eye level, though looking unsure of what to do. The boy's blue eyes were shining with what looked like awe. Technoblade gave him a one-shouldered shrug.

"Thick skin, I guess." Tommy made a weird sound of disbelief and Tubbo merely shook his head, looking slightly feint.

"So... what should we do?" The shorter asked after a few more moments, motioning to the arrows embedded in Technoblade's limbs. The taller was already reaching for a shaft to yank it free from Technoblade's shoulder. The fighter blinked in alarm and shifted away from the boy, who regarded him with confusion.

"To start with, do NOT... take those out of me." When Tommy looked like he was about to do it anyway, the hybrid had to quickly add, "I'll bleed to death in a... matter of seconds if those wounds open... any further. I'm walkin' a thin line as it... as it is." This promptly caused the kid to drop his hands, looking conflicted. 

"So wha--" He began to ask, repeating Tubbo's question before getting interrupted by the fighter.

"Take my sword... and start by cuttin' away my sleeve so you can... slow the bleedin'." He weakly motioned towards the arm with the arrow in it. He was thanking his lucky stars Hypixel had taught him first aid. Nodding, Tubbo, who was closer to the sword tucked into his torn red sash, took it out and handed it to Tommy, who was on the side with the arrow. In silence for the first time since they found him, the boy sliced through the thin white satin right above the arrow, pulling the sleeve up and over it, then sliding it down the rest of Technoblade's arm. The fighter grit his teeth in pain, but didn't move. He inhaled deeply before telling them what to do next so he wasn't panting like a dog.

"You, Tubbo. I need you to roll my pant leg up right until you're above the arrow. As tight as you can manage it. And I need you, Tommy, was it? I need you to wrap that sleeve around my arm in the same way. As tight as you can." They looked shocked he knew their names. Like they hadn't been chatting all night long in his ears. He sighed and panted out, "I'd rather you did it before I was dead, thank you." At his words, the kids began to work. Not particularly gently, Tommy more than Tubbo, but both were pretty bad. Technoblade just focused on his breathing, trying to calm down his heart as pain threatened to make his breakfast of beef from the forest come back up. Tubbo's face was contorted with disgust as he worked the blood-soaked pant leg.

Yeah, he never wanted to lose a fight again.

Maybe constant victory boredom wasn't so bad, after all... He knew now that he would never complain about it again, anyway.

When they both finished their tourniquets, the kids backed off. Technoblade already noticed a difference in the flow of blood. Where before it had been a steady stream, there was now only a slow trickle. They both looked pleased as they stood up, talking to each other and glancing at the fighter every now and then. Technoblade only caught a small snippet of their conversation. 

"Well, should I go get Phil? He's way better at this shit than we are, Tubbo." That was Tommy. Who was Phil? More people? Technoblade almost groaned aloud at the thought. To his dismay, Tubbo nodded in agreement.

"How fast do you think you can get him?"

"I'd say an hour at the most. The tavern isn't too far from the town's edge." This caught Technoblade's attention. Town?? Maybe his luck was finally turning around! He'd have to ask about it later. If it was Manberg, then this job wouldn't take as long as he now thought it was going to. 

"Okay. Be safe Tommy."

"You too, Big T." With that, Tommy hugged Tubbo, waved at Technoblade, grabbed a small stone blade, and left the tower. Faint, early-morning sunlight shone through the open door before it closed. Technoblade tore his gaze away from the door and settled it on the small hybrid now sitting cross-legged in front of him. He raised an eyebrow.

"You have a diamond sword..." He said, still staring at Technoblade's face with wide green eyes. The fighter blinked in confusion. 

"Uh... yeah." He responded simply, not exactly sure what to say to this kid. Tubbo rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish.

"I've never been allowed to have a sword. Do the diamond swords really take out mobs with one hit? There were a lot of dead ones when we found you." He questioned, tilting his head. Technoblade shifted uncomfortably. Tonight was probably the most he'd talked to strangers at one time, and it was because this was an emergency situation. Now he was back to not knowing how to talk to people. Lovely. 

"Well... if you know how to use 'em." Tubbo nodded, then decided to ask another question.

"So... why were you out at night in the middle of the fields? It's not safe out there at all. Everyone around here knows that. Have you never heard the phrase 'Travel by Night, be Dead by Daylight'? Though you did hold out really really well. A lot of people wouldn't have survived a horde like that." Technoblade huffed defensively.

"I should be askin' you two the same thing. Aren't you just kids?" Tubbo crossed his arms, his tail flicking in the epitome of indignancy.

"Rude! We aren't _kids._ We're fifteen! We can explore if we want. Not to mention we have this." He spread out his arms, talking about the stone tower. 

"Fifteen? Do your parents know you're out here at night?" Now Technoblade was sure he crossed a line, because the kid's demeanor instantly darkened a little. Enough to be noticeable, at least. He looked down slightly.

"Tommy's dad does. My dad uh... he wouldn't be very happy if he knew what I was doing." And there was something else. Tubbo had become fidgety and instantly uncomfortable-looking, leaning away from Technoblade a little bit. The fighter absently messed with a tusk.

"Oh. Well... to answer your earlier question, I was travelin' to find Manberg? The city?" He tried to change the subject for the kid, which worked surprisingly well. He instantly straightened again, his eyes shining. 

"Oh! So you _aren't_ from here! I know pretty much everybody in Manberg, so that's why I was confused. I've never seen you before." Technoblade blinked in surprise, then also brightened considerably as Tubbo continued. "Yeah, from the way you were going, by the ravine? That was the right way. If it was day, you would've come across it eventually. Though you wouldn't have been able to get in." The kid looked sheepish again. Technoblade tilted his head.

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm sure you noticed that all of the paths are gone?" He asked. Now that Technoblade thought about it, it was odd that if he was going the right way, there were no pathways or roads. He nodded.

"Yeah well Manberg was attacked recently, and all of the roads were destroyed and the city was decimated. Luckily everybody had evacuated, but we had to rebuild everything. There are huge walls around the city again, like in the past. You need to be either a citizen or have express permission from the... the president to enter." Tubbo explained, sounding way too cheery to be talking about something like _that._ Technoblade didn't notice his hesitation of the word 'president'. He was just worried that his job would be compromised by a recent attack. 

"I didn't know." The pinkette stated simply, still fidgeting with one of the teeth below his eyelids. 

"Then you _really_ aren't from around here, huh?"

"Nah."

"That makes sense. I've never seen--" Tubbo's next statement was ~~thankfully~~ cut off by the small door swinging open and two people ducking inside. One was Tommy, who immediately walked over to Technoblade and said,

"Here he is, Phil. I told you!!" Technoblade blinked and both he and Tubbo looked towards the door as the second figure got closer, dropping a satchel against the wall. It was a shorter adult, maybe late twenties? Early thirties? He was wearing a dark haori over a green kimono, obscuring the view of his sandals. His hair was shoulder-length and sandy-blonde, topped with a striped bucket hat. But the thing that gave Technoblade pause were the large, charcoal-grey feathered wings sticking from his back. The fighter instantly tensed up, his eyes wide. The man, Phil, raised an eyebrow, his face dropping into a frown. The two men stared at each other, Tommy and Tubbo exchanging a confused glance, but staying silent. They could sense something in the air. Finally, Phil broke the silence, Technoblade still staring in a mix of un-disguised shock and anger.

"Boys, I need you to step outside really quickly." He commanded with a soft tone. The kids, especially Tommy, protested loudly.

"But Phil! He needs help!" 

"He's still bleeding, sir!"

Technoblade watched quietly as the winged man pinned a stern look on the kids and pointed at the open door.

"This will only be a second." They still didn't move. "Now." 

With that one word, Tubbo stood up with a concerned glance at Technoblade and walked out, followed by Tommy, who stuck his tongue out at his father. Phil merely sighed.

Of course that kid had to be _his._

Of fucking course.

He had to be the kid of the Angel of Death, himself.

The most well-known adventurer and monster-slayer in both the Nether _and_ the Overworld. Everyone knew about Philza, the Angel of Death. He was even more of a legend than Technoblade. More than the Blood God. Technoblade had read many stories about his escapades and adventures. Quite a few of them had saved the entire world as everyone knew it.

He was the one who killed the Ender Dragon, after all. If he could do that, what else could he do?

He also just-so-happened to be the leading figure in attempting to stop Hypixel's fighting ring. He would soar over matches and watch as Technoblade slaughtered human after hybrid. The winged man rallied people and did whatever he could to stop it, sometimes still trying every now and then, though his efforts were less common than they used to be. He sent shivers down even Technoblade's spine during the tournaments he watched over.

Nobody in the Underground liked him. He was a threat to everything they worked for, spreading the campaign of awareness far and wide. 

The criminals and spectators alike, despite Phil always having good intentions, were scared of what wrath he could incur when he'd deemed the murder went too far.

To the Angel of Death, Technoblade was just another monster he had to slay to save lives. 

And now Technoblade was looking him in the eyes.

Phil crossed his arms, quietly looking over Technoblade's limp form against the wall. His blue eyes were sharp and cold, a heavy contrast to their warmth when they had been directed at the children. Technoblade said nothing, trying to figure out a way he could fight his way out if he needed to.

"You know... this is a great fortune, being led here to you in this sorry state. I should kill you right here, 'Blood God'." He stated simply, tilting his head. Technoblade snarled.

"You couldn't kill me if you tried." In his mind, Technoblade knew he was in a really really bad place right now. Phil really _could_ kill him right here.

~~_'As he should.'_~~

 ~~~~"What do you want with my kids, Blade?" Phil demanded, his wings spread wide and threatening. He was in full Papa-Bear mode, and Technoblade could tell. The man had ignored the fighter's empty bluster. Technoblade held himself steady, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Nothin'. They found me in a tricky situation and helped me out. I owe them my life." He grumbled, looking down. It was true, no matter how much it hurt his pride. Phil snorted with contempt.

"I'd say. The Blood God, brought down by a horde of mobs. Not a good enough way to go out, huh? You want to wait to die until you can pay the debt then take the kids down with you. Leave a legacy of fear, at least. I've seen what you do. Suddenly now you care about people's lives??." The winged man sneered, his arms still crossed and gripping his long sleeves. Technoblade glared back up at him, not surprised he would think such a thing. He felt a lump form in his throat.

"I do not have nor have had any intention of hurtin' those children, Angel of Death." He growled. "I don't fight kids. Nor anybody else up here. That's not what I'm here to do."

Phil frowned even deeper, kneeling in front of the fighter. "You're young, yourself Blade. Where do you draw the line?" 

Those words made Technoblade reel back, hissing in pain as he aggravated the two arrows still burrowed in his skin. When he said nothing after a few minutes, unable to form a proper response, Phil sat back, shaking his head.

"Why is a beast like you even in the Overworld in the first place? I can tell you've never been up here before. Although I can also tell you held your own fairly decently. It's nothing short of... expectations." The man demanded, his eyes flickering warily to Technoblade's sword that was still laying on the floor. The fighter decided it would be best to just be truthful. Why would he have to hide it? He doesn't even know what his job is yet anyway.

"I was called to see President Schlatt about somethin' he wants me to do for him. It's serious and a lot of people's lives and livelihoods may be at stake. That's it. I'm not here to burn down villages and kidnap your young, so don't worry. I was on my way to Manberg to get the details and got caught out at night. I'm lucky I'm not dead right now." In the end, Phil scoffed.

"I'd say so."

A tense silence stretched between the men, both refusing to break the gaze or the silence. 

Finally, Phil sighed in sudden resignation. 

"If I help you now, I want two things from you. No matter how much I may despise you, I can't leave you to die, and lord knows I can't leave you alone with Tommy and Tubbo. You have the most blood-stained legacy of anybody I know, and I don't think someone with the title of 'Blood God' is a very stable person who values life. Plus... They would refuse to leave you alone after this..." The admitted, pausing for a second and clearly thinking something through before continuing with, "It's sudden, and against everything I believe in, but leaving someone so... pitiful is also against what I do." Technoblade blinked in surprise at the change of heart, tilting his head.

"Okay..." Phil raised a hand, counting off of his fingers once he had the fighter's verbal approval.

"One: I need you to promise you won't hurt anyone. My children's safety is my top priority." Technoblade nodded.

"You say that like it was on my mind in the first place. I still owe them my life." Phil ignored him and continued on.

"Two: I want you to never set foot anywhere in the Overworld again after this, and keep yourself on the low for now. People will definitely end up recognizing you up there eventually, and the chaos it would cause would be bloody if you were to get involved. I believe that the fighting ring will get what it deserves eventually, and you with it. But for now, this is all I ask. If you step foot anywhere up here, I will personally hunt you down and slit your bloody throat myself. Understood?"

"Understood, Phil." Technoblade dipped his head, looking down at the wooden panels of the floor. The respect he was showing this man killed him a little inside.

"Good boy. I'll bring you to Schlatt tomorrow, then. Fit to walk or not." Technoblade's mind was reeling as he heard the swish of Phil's kimono against the floor, signaling that he stood up. Technoblade lifted his head and watched as the second Phil opened the door, Tommy and Tubbo barreled into the room, talking over each other as they looked Technoblade up and down.

"Shit, is he okay?"  
"Have you helped him yet, Phil?"  
"Why are there still arrows in him?"  
"Is he dead?!"

Technoblade shot an exasperated glance at Phil, who mirrored it exactly, but refused to meet his eyes again. Phil's gaze was tempered by wariness and simultaneously brightened by a warm smile. The facial expression brought up the image of Hypixel looking down at Technoblade like that.

Except he wishes it had been genuine like Phil's. 

The fighter shook his head and snapped back to the present for what seemed like the millionth time that night/morning.

"No, I haven't helped him yet. I just needed to ask him some questions." This caused Tubbo to sigh as Tommy shoved his father in the back.

"What questions are so important that you still haven't pulled the damn arrows from his limbs?!" Phil thought for a moment before training his look back onto the fighter, his gaze meaningful and loaded.

"I was just wondering if he had a place to stay."

The blonde gasped. "Is he going to stay with us?!" Tommy was nearly shouting at this point, Tubbo still thoughtfully quiet a little further back. He shot the older hybrid a sympathetic glance. Technoblade gave him a small, good-natured shrug.

"If he's okay with that. We have plenty of space." Phil offered, smiling down at Technoblade. The fighter blinked dumbly for a moment before nodding. He had to fight against narrowing his eyes.

"If I'm not intrudin'."

It was Tommy who exclaimed, "POG! He's staying with us, Tubbo!!" Tubbo grinned, his face bright and enthusiastic. Phil was still smiling, but now there was something else in his expression that the children didn't read, but Technoblade sure did.

_'So I can keep an eye on you.'_

He couldn't argue with that.

"Okay. Let's get these out so we can move you into town. Wounds like these from skeletons are way too common, so I've helped out a time or two." Phil said, having told Tommy and Tubbo to back up after they were done jabbering away about the crazy night they'd had. If Phil was disgusted that he was helping Technoblade, the fighter noticed he was doing a fantastic job at hiding it. The two kids were peering at them from where they sat a few feet away, leaning up against the wall. Tubbo let out a small yawn and had leaned against Tommy's shoulder to watch without having to hold his head up. Technoblade couldn't help a small smile at that. 

The fighter himself, though he would die before admitting it, was terrified. He'd never been shot before, so this was going to be a whole new experience for him. Phil had the satchel he dropped open beside his legs while he unwrapped sterile gauze and grabbed a small little iron knife. As quick as a practiced physician, Phil sawed through the shafts of the arrows with the knife, leaving only a little bit of the sticks and the arrowheads in Technoblade's skin. He left the kids' pseudo-tourniquets above the wounds. Probably, Technoblade thought grimly, to staunch a little of the bleeding for when the arrows were pulled and he had yet to bandage them. 

"Here. Bite down on this." Phil handed Technoblade a thick plastic rod from the satchel. The pinkette raised an eyebrow but placed the rod between his teeth the best he could. Technoblade could see the owlish eyes of Tommy and Tubbo still peering at the operation curiously.

"Ready?" Phil drew out, placing one hand each on the two arrows, gentle enough to not hurt the crowned hybrid yet. It was... a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Technoblade drew in a breath and nodded. 

"3..."

"2..."

"1..."

Technoblade inhaled sharply as the countdown ended.

Phil _pulled._

The sweaty, bandaged mess that was now Technoblade was laying flat on the floor, tangled pink ponytail splayed out on the wood beneath him. He had slid down the wall in agony as Phil slowly ripped out the jagged arrowheads. He had his uninjured arm draped over his eyes, the points of his tusks jabbing into the crook of his elbow. Tommy was staring in a mixture of horror and amazement, and Tubbo was asleep. Amazement, probably, due to the fact that Technoblade didn't cry out or lash out once. He simply bit down on the rod so hard that the plastic shattered in his mouth, leaving little pieces lodged in his teeth. Phil looked particularly surprised by that, seeing someone crush thick, reinforced plastic with their jaw alone. Technoblade moved his arm a little, looking through watery eyes at the winged man as he cleaned up, putting the roll of bandages and the knife inside the bag, and scrubbed off the arrowheads, putting them against the wall.

The fighter heard a quiet "holy shit---" from Tommy, but he didn't acknowledge it. 

He was not looking forward to moving at all. 

Finally, Phil looked back at the kids.

"Tommy, could you help me move him? We're going to the tavern. I would fly him, but I wouldn't be able to carry him the whole way, and I want to get to Manberg by nightfall." Tommy nodded quietly, still staring wide-eyed at Technoblade, who forced himself into a sitting position, his bruised ribs crying out in protest. The blonde got to his feet, accidentally rousing a sleeping Tubbo, who rubbed his eyes with a yawn. As the kids made their way to Phil and Technoblade, Tommy was _still_ marveling at the new, slightly red-stained bandages.

"Well mate, if you're gonna stay with us, I gotta know your name!" He smiled and the fighter sighed. Phil gave him a side-long glance, which he ignored. He twitched his tail. 

"Technoblade." He muttered, trying not to slur his words. Tubbo blinked in surprise and Tommy gaped.

"Your name is _Technoblade?!_ That's so badass!" Tommy exclaimed. Tubbo sleepily nodded in agreement.

"It is. But it's so long... Can we call you Techno?" Tubbo asked with a small smile. Technoblade hummed an agreement.

"Everyone does." Phil shot him another glance, which he also ignored. It wasn't wrong, or a lie. Anyone who knew Technoblade personally called him 'Techno.' Technoblade is a mouthful of a name, after all.

"Pog!!" Tommy grinned as Phil stood up, slinging the satchel across his body. He stretched his wings out before folding them shut against his back. Phil gave Tommy a nod and the two heaved him to a shaky, queasy standing position, supporting both of his sides again. Tubbo watched, ready to catch him if he fell forward.

"Okay. Let's keep the pace quick. I don't want to be trapped out here at night. Keep up, okay Tubbo?" Phil said, looking at the three of them from his position under Technoblade's arm. The kids nodded, and Phil nudged open the door. The sun was already setting once more, and Technoblade looked up at the sky for one moment before having to look down. He still didn't like the endlessness of it at all. That was one of the good things about the nighttime in the Overworld for Technoblade. They made slow and steady progress through more fields and trees.

Progress towards Manberg at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: haha look at the big brain author over here realizing in the middle of the day that instead of publishing the finished chapter last night, she merely saved it as a draft. The amount of frustration, lmao. Sorry guys!
> 
> Ooo things are happening now, bois! Had a LOT of fun writing this one!  
> But anyways, wow!! Barely two chapters and this fic has already hit over 1000 hits and 100 kudos. Excuse me, w h a t? The support on this is bonkers and I really appreciate all of the comments I've been getting, both on Dreams and Humanity. I've been pretty terrible at responding to them, but do know that I see and read them!! So again, thank you, and I hope you enjoy what's been added and what's to come!! <3
> 
> Disclaimer: EVERYONE NAMED IN THIS FIC IS A REAL-LIFE PERSON!! ALL SITUATIONS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF THESE PEOPLE ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND ARE NOT MEANT TO REPRESENT THE CREATORS AS A WHOLE.


	3. Makin' His Way Downtown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood/Violence | Mentions/Threats of Child Death and Harm

_"Blood for the Blood God..."_

_"Kill."_

_"Death."  
_

_"Watch him fall."_

_"Drink his blood."_

_A haunting chorus of whispers filled his ears as he skewered the blade through his opponent's chest. Their mouth opened in a scream he couldn't hear. The silence was suffocating._

_There was no audience._

_There was no Hypixel._

_It was just him and his..._

_Victims?_

_Opponents?_

_Blood cascaded in an arc as their back snapped backward and their body crumpled to the stone beneath their feet, splattering him like he was a canvas and they were his Picasso._

_The weak had fallen yet again._

_He kicked the body to the side, licking the blood from his lips with a sadistic grin as someone else stepped up to fight him. Their knees were trembling, their face was pale, and their eyes were wide and clouded with fear._

_He could smell their fear._

_He could feel their fear._

_He wanted to taste their fear._

_...approach your partner..._

_His sword slashed and spun, ripped and tore, disemboweled and beheaded. His feet were light. His strokes were graceful._

_On and on he danced; taking a hand, going through the steps, taking a final bow, and moving on again._

_It was second-nature, the choreography of death._

_...and do-si-do..._

_He ignored the chains that rattled from his neck and his wrists._

_Why pay them any heed?  
_

_They were always there._

_He fought on through lines and lines of people. All different kinds of people._

_It didn't matter to him._

_The Blood God._

_This is what he does._

_Men, women, hybrids, humans, it didn't matter._

_The chains dragged, getting heavier and heavier with each kill._

_With each drop of blood or the spatter of innards._

_With each quiet, haunting scream of pain._

_Finally, he was dragged down to his knees, struggling to lift his head against the cold, solid weight coiled around his throat. His sword dropped from his hand and clattered onto the stone, sliding a few feet on the blood-slicked floor before coming to a halt._

_Right in front of someone's feet._

_Sandaled, pale feet; kimono grazing the pools of viscera._

_Green darkening into a crimson-brown._

_He stilled, holding his breath as a hand slowly reached down and gripped the handle of his weapon, pulling it from the gore. The innards relinquished the blade with a horrid sucking sound._

_Like it had been pulled from a vat of tar._

_Slowly, he managed to look up, meeting cold blue eyes._

_Sharp like icicles and just as unforgiving._

_A shudder ran down his spine as the face shadowed over, baring their teeth in an expression of pure disgust and fury._

_"Kill him."_

_"Spill his blood."_

_No..._

_"Blood for the Blood God!!"_

_Stop..._

_"Conquer the Angel of Death!"_

_I can't..._

_This isn't what I want..._

_"KILL HIM."_

_"KILL HIM."_

_"BLOOD."_

_"DEATH."_

_Stop...!_

_I can't!!!_

_"KILL HIM!!!"_

_"YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO!!"_

_NO, I DON'T!!_

_The whispers goaded him on, his face morphing through various degrees of horror and strain as he fought to keep a level head. He DID want to. But he didn't..._

_When was the last time he heard the voices?_

_They just kept getting louder._

_It had been so long._

_Why now?_

_Why now?!_

_The Angel of Death raised the sword above his head, angling the blade towards the top of his skull._

_"SPILL HIS BLOOD!"_

_"EAT HIS HEART OUT."_

_"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD."_

_No...!_

_I promised...!_

_I can't do it..._

_I don't want this!!_

_"KILL HIM."_

_"TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES!"_

_His mind's feeble protests were muted and faint when compared to the shouts echoing through his skull. He raised his heavy arms and pressed them down on his pointed ears, the gold earrings that dangled from his earlobes bloodying his palms._

_The pain was grounding, but he still felt like his head was filling with water. The voices blurred together into a cacophony of bloodlust as he stared at the winged man standing in front of him, poised to strike._

_He moved his hands and gripped each side of his head, finally tearing his gaze away from the pools of frost that seemed to hold him in place._

_The voices only got louder, his denials growing fainter and fainter as the sword moved even further up, obscuring the face that seemed to embody everything he hated about himself. The mutilated, bloody corpses surrounding the two shimmered and melted into two familiar, young beings, copied and pasted over and over and over._

_A brunette with horns and a freckled blonde._

_The voices stopped suddenly, the silence startling._

_He looked back at the man, letting a fanged, bloody grin toy with his lips._

_The man halted, the sword still and his posture stoic. One blonde eyebrow quirked in question as the pinkette doubled over again, the smile melting into mirthless laughter. Deep, gravelly, choking laughter._

_The Angel of Death didn't move._

_He forced his head up one last time, his spine curved and hunched by the weight of the steel and his shoulders shaking with laughs._

_"You couldn't kill me if you were five men!!" He spat out between gasps. "You may be the Angel of Death, but you fly too close to the sun!"_

_"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" He shouted, his voice echoing and mixing with all of the voices in his head, all of them converging into that single sentence._

_One shout turned into hundreds._

_His pupils dilated and he kept laughing as the blade plunged into his skull--_

WHAM!!

Technoblade jolted out of the dream, his head flying up as the door in front of the bed slammed open and smashed into the wall. He blinked for a few moments, trying to catch his rapid, shallow breath and calm his heartbeat. The hybrid was drenched in sweat, and the entirety of his body was throbbing with a dull ache that was only accentuated by his sudden movements.

He took a deep breath through his teeth and ran a clawed hand through his wet, tangled hair as a certain blonde bounced cheerily over to the side of his bed, completely and utterly oblivious to whatever Technoblade might be feeling. 

The fighter closed his eyes and kept up his breathing, trying not to visibly tremble. 

It was just a dumb dream with the stupid voices about two kids he'd only known one day and a man who wanted him dead.

But _why...?_ It had been so long since he'd heard the voices that plagued his mind as a wild, isolated child. The fighting ring usually quieted his mind and calmed him down. But now... when he was away from his element and the outlet for his bloodlust, with three strangers he barely knew and didn't really care for, the voices returned. 

He had thought they were finally gone. That he was finally something that _loosely_ resembled 'normal'. If Technoblade strained, he could make out quiet, hushed, indistinguishable whispers in his ears. Faint enough to be ignorable but still distracting. 

Just one more reason to get this job done as fast as possible and go back to where he belonged. 

And now it was time to focus on the more immediate problem at hand that needed his attention:

Where the hell _was_ he??

Technoblade remembered being practically carried by Phil and Tommy to the dark, ugly obsidian wall of Manberg in a slow, agonizing trip, then nothing after that. What bed was this?? And why was Tommy here???

His temples began to pound as he realized he had been ignoring fast and fervent words from the kid, who was standing at the side of the bed and staring at him with relief and not aware of the fact that Technoblade hadn't been listening to any words that were spilling from his mouth.

God, was he always this _loud??_ He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a small sigh. He may or may not also be avoiding looking the kid in the eyes. The warm blue was almost exactly like the eyes of a certain adventurer in the building, after all.

"... and you passed out, which was awful because damn, you're heavy. Tubbo thought you died but I'm a big strong man and wasn't worried at all, so don't you worry about that..." He rambled in his odd accent, all of the words jumbling together into a mush of semi-concerned bluster and nonsense.

So he passed out? 

Well, that was embarrassing.

"... we brought you to our tavern... slash house... thing and gave you my room. Pretty pog, innit? Tubbo and I got to sleep under the bar last night. Don't tell Phil though, we're not supposed to do that."

"I'll... uh... keep that in mind." 

"Thanks, big man! Anyways, get up and get dressed. I want you to come to see the bar since you've never been here before! Dadza said there are spare clothes in the closet down the hall for you that might fit, since you're around my size and they're just clothes I didn't want anymore, so they've just been tucked away. Though _I'm_ definitely much more muscle-y." The blonde flexed a thin bicep with a one-sided, cocky smile. The gesture was endearing, but it also clued Technoblade into exactly what he had gotten himself into with this family. The fighter tilted his head in question, pink hair listing over his shoulder and a small frown on his scarred face.

"Dadza...? Are there more people who live here?" He asked, not exactly liking the thought of there being more children. He was already having trouble talking to this one alone. The hybrid felt his social anxiety bubble at just the thought. To Technoblade's surprise, however, Tommy flushed a light shade of pink, looking away with a scowl.

"Phil. I meant Phil. It's just... what I call him, I guess. I dunno. It's not important!" He stammered, obviously trying to hide the pet name he had for his father. The blatant display of emotion this kid showed was refreshing when compared to the slimy criminals he and Hypixel usually had the pleasant task of interacting with. There was no deception here, and Technoblade could see that. He felt himself relax a little, letting a snort of laughter escape; much to the younger's chagrin.

"Hey!!" He exclaimed as the fighter smirked at him around his teeth. Technoblade was amused more by the thought of the imposing Angel of Death being called 'Dadza' than anything else.

"You ARE a child." The pinkette remarked, watching as Tommy's face flamed into a rather impressive shade of red. The boy crossed his arms, still scowling at Technoblade's amused expression. 

"I'll have YOU know that I am the biggest, most strongest man in the whole city of Manberg and beyond. I get more women in a day than I bet you have your entire life, prick!! And I'M not the grown man who's in bed injured!!" He huffed as Technoblade snickered behind a hand, trying to hide it at least a little so the kid didn't go into full-blown rant-mode.

"Semantics."

"What the the fuck does 'semantics' mean?" Tommy asked with another frown. Technoblade stared at him with a quirked eyebrow, holding in another small laugh.

The boy opened his mouth again, attempting to breeze over the conversation and on-coming explanation entirely with, "But no, there's nobody else here. My older brother Wilbur used to live here, but he uh... doesn't, anymore. So it's just me and Da-- _Phil."_

Technoblade nodded in relief, pleased to hear that it was only Tommy and Phil. Another thought came to his mind as the kid began to storm back to the door, tightening the knot of his bandanna.

"What about Tubbo?"

Tommy turned back for a moment, hand on the doorknob.

"Oh, he's just my friend. He actually went home earlier this morning before his dad could realize he'd been gone. Sorry, Big T." With that, the tomato-red teen headed out without even shutting the door, footsteps pounding on the wood as he ~~stomped~~ walked. The fighter rolled his eyes as he left and looked down at himself for a quick self-evaluation.

He was definitely NOT stalling so he wouldn't have to look at Phil after his dream last night.

No. The Blood God, Slayer of Man would not stall talking to somebody like that.

Never.

Pulling back the sheets and swinging his legs over the side of the bed revealed multiple things that made Technoblade wince as he looked. His boots had been tossed to the side, revealing the blood from his wound that had dripped down and caked onto his hooves. The one pant leg that wasn't on his injured leg was dirty and torn in a few places, but still salvageable, in Technoblade's opinion. His other leg was where the problems were. It was bare up to his lower thigh, the pant leg still rolled up above clean, white bandages that were wrapped around the healing arrow-wound. The entire section of fabric was stiff and dry when he tried to roll it down, flakes of dried gore cracking off and drifting onto the bedsheets. There was a single, large tear from where the arrow had penetrated the fabric.

Maybe these pants couldn't be saved after all... Technoblade sighed and kept going.

At least his sash had stayed relatively unscathed through the whole ordeal. The crimson material wrapped tightly around his waist was scuffed and had a bit of zombie innards staining the folds, but he was happy it stayed whole. It was the first thing he had purchased by himself without Hypixel's express permission from the stadium stands. 

Moving upward, the hybrid knew this was lost after only a small glance. The white satin poet's blouse he was wearing was absolutely shredded, the fabric hanging in tatters from one shoulder, the other sleeve wrapped around his upper arm over more bandages. The little red brooch that was pinned in the middle of the collar remained though, which again, he was happy about. His entire mid-section was wrapped to help aid his bruised ribs, a stick jammed straight down his side. 

So that's why he couldn't bend his back...

Feeling his face, he could tell it was fine, just really dirty and a little scratched in places. Though he did wish he had the foresight to bring his glasses. 

Ah well. 

The pinkette looked around the room he was in. It was plain, though there were some posters on the walls. Pretty empty for a kid's room, if books gave Technoblade any proper reference. There wasn't even a bookshelf...! His crown was sitting on the bedside table, glimmering innocently and without a speck of blood on the metal. 

Well, new blood, anyway.

With a huff and a stretch to pop his spine, he tried his luck with standing up. Once Technoblade pushed himself off of the thin mattress, he grimaced as spikes of aching pain shot up from his leg and into his back. He shook his head.

Now was not the time to be a baby. He's felt worse.

Untying his sash from his waist and freeing the few strands of satin that were tucked into it, Technoblade walked from the room, his hooves making loud clopping noises on the wood floors. Yet another thing to make him wince.

Poking his head from the doorway, Technoblade looked out into the hall. It was a narrow hall, warmly lit by torches on the walls and family pictures mounted in cute custom frames. Not really wanting to look at family pictures of this family (or at all), the fighter made his way to the closet Tommy had told him about. From his observations as he reached what he assumed to be a linen closet due to its position next to the bathroom, there were only three real rooms up here. There was obviously Tommy's room, another room that looked like what Tommy's brother's room might have been, and the bathroom. It was quaint, warm, and homely, and it made a small lump form in Technoblade's throat.

Why? He had no clue.

Shaking his head, the fighter opened the closet door, grabbing a white collared shirt and black pants that were folded on one of the shelves. 

If there was one thing Technoblade made sure of, it was his aesthetic. 

Plus, they were the only clothes that looked like they would fit him, so...

Win, win??

"Nice..."

Technoblade tied the red sash around his waist, pinned the brooch to one of the collar flaps, and fixed his wrinkled, stiff white sleeves. The clothes fit as well as he had hoped, though they _were_ pretty snug. A little uncomfortable, but still loose enough to allow him to have a good fighting chance in them in the case of a violent altercation. 

He hadn't washed or anything, so he was still rather scuffed and speckled with dried flakes of blood and dirt. It was another thing that would probably earn him some negative attention around Manberg, he realized, but he didn't really care, since he would hopefully be going back to the Nether soon anyway, where he was always covered with soot and smog-stains. (It also would maybe leave a bad impression on the president, but he still had mixed feelings about that. Governmental powers never sat right with him. He never saw the point of government from the stories he'd heard. It only ever seemed to make people unhappy.) He could wash up at any time anyway. 

Being part of a beast that was related to the pig _definitely_ had its perks.

The fighter tugged on his soft leather boots and turned to the bed, which made him feel bad since he found out it was Tommy's. It was covered in browning gore and flakes of zombie's guts, the white sheets and pillow most-likely permanently stained. He sighed and, pulling his hair into a high-up, tangled ponytail, stripped the mattress bare. Technoblade didn't know the kid very well, but this was the least he could do.

He really still did owe this family his life, after all. 

The pinkette folded the linen and tossed it into the small pile of his own destroyed clothes in a far corner of the room. He'd have to ask what to do with them if he came back. 

Now he had another issue to think about.

Where was his sword??

Technoblade never had his sword any more than a few feet away from him at all times, due to his very dangerous lifestyle. (He's had more than one angry, grieving family member attempt to kill him in his own bedroom). He also just likes the feeling of having it with him. 

When he first got it, it was a symbol of how far he'd come and just how fast he'd left his weakness behind. 

If Phil took it, Technoblade needed to get it back. He didn't want to walk down busy, crowded roads full of people who may recognize him from the ring. This last hour-or-so without it already left him feeling on-edge and anxious, especially with the Angel of Death being so close to him while he was completely weaponless.

He was _the Blade._

He couldn't _not_ have his blade.

The irony in this situation made him grimace as he lifted the crown from the bedside table and rested it on his head. With a small sigh and a wave of his tail, Technoblade turned on his heel and walked from the room to make his way downstairs, where he assumed the bar was after hearing Tommy's loud footsteps when he went down the hall.

Not Techno-hoof loud, but... jeez that kid sounded like he _stomped_ everywhere. There was a reason Technoblade liked to wear leather boots that were more human-shaped and reinforced in the heels. Hypixel attempted to hide it, but Technoblade knew his un-shoed footsteps just about got on his father's last nerves at times. He never really takes his boots off outside of his room at this point.

The fighter stepped onto the top step of the staircase and paused to take a breath.

Whatever he would do today, losing his cool and accidentally slaughtering someone would not be one of them. In the Nether, if someone made him mad and was up to fight, who's to tell the Blade not to kill them in the stands of the arena?? They always tried to kill him right back.

Yeah... there was going to be no fighting angry, bloodthirsty, drunk criminals here.

Steeling himself, Technoblade headed down the stairs, picking up the sounds of jukebox music and the laughter of what he assumed were patrons of the place. Fantastic. Just what he wanted this morning. 

Peeking around the wall at the bottom of the stairs, he saw Tommy swaying around the bar area to the music with a dopey grin on his face. There were two people sitting around the little wooden tables eating and drinking and just... having a good time. The hybrid blinked in surprise, just watching the cheery customers talk to Tommy and each other like they were all old friends. The atmosphere was lively and warm with morning energy, bright sunlight shining through a few windows that were scattered around the walls. 

Technoblade had... never seen anything like this before. 

"... no, Niki, we never have cake and I don't think we ever will." That was Tommy, shortly followed by a good-natured groan from a dark-haired female sitting at a table in the back. "Yeah, Phil's a buzzkill sometimes. He's married though, so I think that's a given." That must have been a joke because it got a few good laughs out of whoever was inside. 

"Aw, c'mon Tommy. You have to at least admit that Phil does serve fantastic breakfast food." That was what appeared to be a younger, ginger fox hybrid, who was sitting a table down from the girl and talking with his mouth full. He had another variant of an accent. Technoblade was fascinated with the casual chatter.

"Shut it, Fundy. Everyone knows his lunch food is way better than _that."_ Tommy cackled as he spoke, motioning towards the plate on 'Fundy's' table. Technoblade listened as the chit-chat went on for a few more minutes, not really wanting to interrupt. 

"Oh yeah! Niki, are you going to set your stand up this year?" 

"Of course! The blossoms are probably my best yet." The girl's soft voice was warm with pride, though what they were talking about, Technoblade didn't know. Exclamations of excitement came from Tommy and the ginger.

He had no idea how long he stood at the base of those stairs listening to normal talk. It was embarrassing, the way he really couldn't seem to tear himself away or interrupt.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." A cold voice from his side made Technoblade, embarrassingly, jump in surprise. He let out a shocked "heh?!" as he turned to face the source, finding himself staring into the blue eyes of Phil. The fighter froze like a deer in the headlights; like he'd been caught doing something wrong. The Angel of Death was standing with his arms folded over his chest, mimicking the stance he'd taken last night in Tommy and Tubbo's stone tower, only this time, he had to look up at Technoblade.

How was he still somehow intimidated??

"Sorry... I was just lookin'." He apologized, rubbing the back of his head. Phil sighed slightly and shook his head. He opened his mouth to respond, but right then was when Tommy just-so-happened to look over at them, his eyebrows raised in question.

"Who're you talking to, Da-- Phil?" He asked, the girl and the fox-hybrid glancing over as well. Technoblade attempted to shrivel back and go back up the stairs, but Phil reached out and gripped his arm. The fighter could easily rip the limb from his grip, but he didn't. The stick tied to his side probably wasn't doing him any favors in the stealth department anyway.

"Techno." Phil responded simply, covertly pulling him from the obstruction of the wooden wall by the stairs. 

Fuck. This was somehow _so_ much worse than an audience of faceless supporters in a stadium. 

Faceless because he never _looked_ at them. He never had to.

_'Calm down. It's three people.'_

Tommy expelled a noise of excitement and ran over, taking Technoblade's clawed hand and dragging him even further out of the blessed shadows of the stairs.

The fighter _so_ desperately wanted his sword back.

"Blaaaade!!! My frieeeeenddd!" Tommy exclaimed, plunking him down on a barstool and leaning over the counter with a grin. "Do you like the clothes? They look like they fit perfectly." 

Technoblade gave a half-hearted shrug, still hyper-aware of the amused stares that were trained on his back. 

"A little tight, but they'll do." He responded quietly, making a point of staring at the wood of the bar counter and fighting against flushing.

"Well I've got impeccable fashion sense, so you should know you obviously look great." The kid grinned at Technoblade, cleaning a glass that the fighter was afraid he would drop and shatter with the way he was bouncing around. A snort sounded from behind him, and Technoblade turned slightly, looking at the fox-hybrid and the girl.

"Tommy everyone knows Phil buys all your clothes. If he didn't, you'd just wear that same t-shirt and pants over and over again." The hybrid, Fundy, apparently, chuckled in his odd accent, his tail waving in good-nature. Tommy scoffed, and the girl giggled behind a hand, piping in.

"Plus, I've never seen you wear anything even remotely fancy ever." 

"Yeah well, that's just because you're always looking at fancy-bitch Wilbur." Tommy shot back, his tone rising in pitch as he got more and more indignant. This time it was Phil who stepped up behind the bar, clapping his son on the shoulder.

"I've never really seen Wil wear anything like that either, Tommy." He added, causing Tommy to sputter and the other two to laugh. Technoblade offered up a weak smile, though he felt increasingly uncomfortable as the conversation went on, especially since he could feel Phil's stare pinned on him, unbeknownst to the others. The fighter shifted slightly in his seat, fidgeting with a pink strand of hair that fell across his face. Things like this... well Technoblade had never been apart of them before. 

And _man_ did he not know what to say. Such a friendly environment was, ironically, putting him on edge. There was like this little, irrational thought in his mind that something terrible was going to jump out at him, and not having his sword just amplified that feeling by a thousand. He could still hear the faint whispers in his ears over the friendly conversation Phil was now having with the girl, Niki with Tommy still blustering on in the background.

"Shut up... shut up... I'm going back soon." He mumbled under his breath without thinking, running a hand down his scratched and scarred face.

Saying he wanted this job to just be done was understating it severely.

It seemed someone took pity on him, and he felt a hand reach out and tap his shoulder.

Of course, the rational reaction would be to calmly turn around and see what's up.

Of course, Technoblade didn't do that.

Instead, the hybrid whirled around to face the person, jumped (painfully) to his feet, and brought a hand down to his sash, where his sword would be if he had it on him. His face was brought into that blank state it took up when he was fighting in the ring. 

Fundy stumbled back in surprise, and Technoblade heard rapid shifting from behind the counter. Probably Phil. 

"Woah, sorry sorry." He stammered as Technoblade blinked, slouching his shoulders a little bit. "I just wanted to know if you were alright...! You were really tense and kinda muttering to yourself..." The ginger backed up a few more steps, and the girl covered her mouth with her hands after turning to look.

"Good lord...! What happened to your face?! Are you okay?" She asked, not unkindly. Her eyes were wide as Technoblade sighed and slumped back onto the barstool with a nod.

"Sorry. The... mobs from the other night have me pretty stressed out right now. I haven't cleaned up yet." He muttered, looking down at the floor with a furrowed brow. He knew Niki wasn't just talking about the scratches from then; probably all of his battle scars too, but he didn't acknowledge her statement at all. Fundy nodded and Niki looked at least a little consoled. He felt another hand on his shoulder from behind the bar, and he looked back with a raised eyebrow. It was Tommy, standing next to a very (oddly) thoughtful-looking Phil, who had taken up cleaning the dishes when Tommy had stalled.

"Yeah, the mobs will do that. You sure you're good, Blade? Witch didn't get you, right?" He asked with a smile, prompting a little one out of Technoblade.

Why did this kid care so much?

"I'm sure." He responded, watching as the blonde relaxed and the two others sat themselves at the bar on one side of him, eating from the counter-top. Phil was now avoiding looking at Technoblade entirely, which the fighter much preferred to the stares he'd been getting from the man since he was dragged in. After a few more moments of conversation between the three, Niki, Fundy, and Tommy turned to look at Technoblade again, who had busied himself with drinking a glass of water. It was his first drink of water in weeks, and was pretty nice.

"So! Tommy called you 'Blade...' What's your name, stranger? We've never seen you around Manberg before!" Fundy asked cheerfully, taking another bite of eggs and pork. Niki listened with a warm smile on her round, kind face.

"Uhhh... my name's Technoblade, actually." He silently enjoyed the surprised looks that washed over their faces, and he and Tommy shared a knowing look. Though the younger's face was curled by a smirk. "But I uh... I just go by Techno. Dunno why the child decided to call me 'Blade'." That earned him laughs from the patrons and a "BRUH" from Tommy. (Tommy's reaction got a small chuckle from Phil, but Technoblade purposefully ignored it.)

"Never heard that name before! Not gonna lie when I say that was not what I was expecting." Fundy joked around another mouthful of food. Technoblade forced out a small chuckle, sipping his glass of water. 

"Well, what _were_ you expectin'?" He asked, tilting his head in question.

"I don't know. Not _Technoblade!_ You look like a... hmm.." He put a clawed hand up to his chin in thought. Niki chimed in, poking her head around Fundy's shoulder.

"What about one of the names from one of those pig novels? Y'know... since..." She waved her hands over his face as he snorted into his water, setting the glass down with a booming burst of laughter that hurt his ribs. Phil looked surprised at his outburst, staring at him with his perpetually thoughtful gaze before turning and walking into what Technoblade assumed to be the doorway to the kitchen.

"I'm not part _pig._ Frankly, that's just insultin'." He joked, pointing at his tusks. "How many pigs have you seen that have tusks?" Niki rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, and Tommy seemed to actually try to think about seeing a pig with tusks. Fundy, now the only other hybrid in the room following Phil's departure, looked instantly curious.

"What _are_ you then? I've never seen a hybrid like you before." He asked, flicking a fluffy ear.

Technoblade stalled for a moment by finishing his water. Hybrids of creatures from the Nether or the End were... to put it lightly... not exactly common. At all.

In old days, before the war, they used to be hunted down for sport, their heads kept like trophies. It was akin to say... saying you hunted a unicorn and it being actually true. While that doesn't happen anymore, people are usually way warier of otherworldly hybrids than normal ones. A lot of people who spend their time in the Nether and fighting ring don't even really know what hybrid he is. 

It's why all of his merch is pig-related, not Piglin.

And he likes that. But these people have been nothing but oddly kind to him, and it doesn't _really_ hurt to tell others what he is. Technoblade inhaled slightly before setting the now-empty glass on the oak. His tail twitched slightly, the only thing betraying his current levels of anxiety.

"I'm uh... I'm a hybrid of a Piglin." Technoblade quieted a little at the last part, unsure of how normal people would react to him when they thought he was relatively normal like them. 

Aannd... cue the fear.

"Mate... that's fuckin' BADASS!!" Technoblade turned in surprise, red eyes blinking dumbly at the blonde behind the counter, who was meeting his stare with wide, awed eyes. He was like, fucking _jittering_ at this point, bouncing forgotten. 

Or not...?

"H-heh?" He stammered as Fundy and Niki chuckled at Tommy, suddenly getting closer to Technoblade to curiously examine his features, not even remotely concerned. The fighter shrank back until his bandaged spine was pressed against the edge of the bar-counter as the hybrid and the girl peered at him in fascination.

"Is everything about you just hella awesome? Or is this where it drops and it turns out you're actually just a massive loser seeing the sights?" The kid joked, taking his empty glass haphazardly from the counter and putting it in a sink Technoblade couldn't see. He widened his eyes as it seemed a sudden thought occurred to him. "Wait have you been to the _Nether?!_ I've heard there are all sorts of scary mobs and criminals down there that would Phil said would take my wallet!!"

"Oh uh... yeah. I've... been." Technoblade stuttered, not too ready to tell this kid everything about him. Tommy's eyes glowed.

"Shit, man!!! You're like Phil!!"

Yeah, in an alternate universe, maybe.

Before he could form a definitely-awkward response, the rustle of feathers on wood alerted his sensitive hearing to Phil's return. He turned to glance at the winged man, who was watching his son poke Technoblade's pierced and heavily scratched ear with a warm look on his face, though once again tempered by a certain wariness and thoughtfulness. The older blond reached up and ruffled Tommy's hair, drawing out a groan of protest and causing everyone to draw back from the fighter, who was somehow right now silently thanking the Angel of Death. 

"Gettoff, Phil!! I'm a big man!" He exclaimed, pushing his dad's hand off of his head. Phil smiled even wider and rolled his eyes. The gesture sent a little, foreign pang through Technoblade's heart.

Why??

"Sorry son, but I'm going to have to take our new friend here for a while." He joked, looking at Technoblade with a tiny nod. Taking the out, the fighter got to his feet. Niki and Fundy went back to their plates, watching in amusement as Tommy complained.

"Whut?! Phill c'mon why does he have to go? I was going to tell Niki and Fundy about how me Tubbo came to his daring rescue!!" He rested his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest a little bit. With this, Phil actually laughed, and the sheer concept of what he was seeing was just absolutely mind-boggling to Technoblade.

The Angel of Death. Running a tavern in a big city. Laughing at a joke told by his son.

Damn, he was asking himself a lot of 'whys' recently...

Technoblade, once again lost in thought, had missed what Phil said in response (and Fundy and Niki's additions to the conversation), but noticed that Tommy looked reassured as Phil untied the white apron draped over his front and putting it back in the kitchen before walking up to join Technoblade by the counter.

"Ready?" The winged man asked, adjusting the bucket hat that was still resting on his head. Technoblade gave a little nod in response.

"Yeah."

"Bye Big T!!!" Tommy exclaimed as the fighter and Phil made their way over to the tavern's entrance, pushing the doors open. The other two guests waved as well, all of them flashing him friendly grins.

"See ya later alligator!" Niki said, prompting a dramatic groan from Fundy. She elbowed him sharply in the ribs in response, his bushy orange tail fluffing with indignation at the action. "We hope to see you around again soon!"

Technoblade could only wave as Phil walked out of the tavern, beckoning for the fighter to follow him. After a moment of hesitation, he turned to look back at Tommy, who raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Uh... Tommy... Thank you." The kid smirked as he promptly spun on his heels and left the warmth of the building and walked into the cold morning air. Phil was looking at him inquisitively, a strange look in his eyes. The fighter raised a hand to his head, squinting in the sunlight. It was going to probably take a while for his eyes to adjust to the sun.

Add that to the 'Reasons This Job Should Be Over' list. Plus the fact that he was already shivering despite it most definitely not being under seventy-five degrees outside.

The two men began to walk down the dirt paths, passing rows of quaint wooden houses and kids running around in the flowers that bordered them, green grass brushing against the wood and the clay. It would probably be the prettiest thing Technoblade had ever seen, if not for the looming mass of black obsidian towering over the buildings.

"I'm pretty sure that Schlatt is in City Hall, so we're going to be passing through the plaza, which holds the public market--" The winged man trailed off as he slipped a simple black hooded cloak from the satchel tossed across his body. "Put that on so nobody recognizes you. There's bound to be trouble if someone does."

"Okay." Technoblade responded, slinging the cloak over his shoulders and pulling the hood up over his head (and his crown). He tucked the flaps closer to the side of his face to hide the pointed ears with their signature piercings. He also pulled some loose strands of pink hair back into the fabric and tucked them into the high collar of his shirt.

Plus he sent another silent thank you to the Angel of Death for the shade the cloak provided for his eyes.

The walk through the more residential areas was long, tense, and silent between the two. There was an unbearable, palpable air of things that needed to be said but remained unspoken, and Technoblade wanted to just leave and find his own way. But he couldn't. 

Phil still had his sword.

Their walking led them into a more business-oriented part of the city, full of little shops and restaurants and boutiques. Colorful banners and decorations were strung all over, advertising something that Technoblade didn't catch. But it sure was festive, whatever it was. People walked all around the central plaza, making their daily commutes and talking with one another. The buzz of conversation and squealing children and the laughs of rowdy teenagers was a lot to take in at once, especially once coupled with the whispers in his ears that grew louder by the hour. People kept stopping the duo, giving Phil handshakes and high fives and greeting him like he was a good friend.

He probably was.

"Heya! Phil! I got the cookies the tavern sent to the plaza yesterday. Delicious!!"

"Philza!!"

"Yooooo Phil!"

"How're the gremlins treatin' ya, man?" 

And Phil would respond kindly and happily to everyone, the embodiment of a well-loved and well-known family man. They got to the end of a market street, and Phil suddenly made a sharp turn, glancing back at Technoblade for the first time that morning. 

"Sorry, but I have a stop to make really quick. I should be out in a jiffy." He motioned for Technoblade to stay put while he ducked into a cute little flower shop, the perfumey aroma of the buds inside wafting out of the door that was left ajar. 

Rubbing his overwhelmed nose, the fighter backed up a few paces to read a bright poster plastered onto the wall of the next-door tea shop. 

\-------------------  
**Annual Founding  
****Festival!!**

_Join us  
in the plaza on the..._

_16th!!_

_To celebrate the  
founding  
of the Capital city   
you all know and love!  
\-------------------  
_

A festival, then. Technoblade realized that was probably what all the decorations were for. The fact that there really was just a celebration for the sake of celebration was something else that the fighter had never really heard of. In books and tales, sure. But in real life? 

Well, the Nether can be a rather gloomy place at times.

"You excited for the festival?" A young female voice broke into his train of thought from his side. He blinked in surprise and looked down, meeting the bright green gaze of a young girl, no more than thirteen. She had short-cut wavy blonde hair and an oddly familiar spatter of freckles over her tan face. He furrowed his brow, trying to figure out where he'd seen this girl before. It wasn't uncommon for little kids to be dragged to the ring by their parents, but she looks far too innocent to have witnessed the daily massacre. She had a roll of the posters tucked under an arm, and her other hand was resting sassily on her hip. She also lacked the peculiar accent that most of the others here had, which was... kind of refreshing. 

"Well, no need to look so grumpy, mister." She tilted her head and teased him, tossing her head to flip her hair. "The festival is a time for smiles! It's only a couple of days away, so why the long face?" The girl mocked his thoughtful frown, dropping the posters on the cobble and sticking fingers onto her cheeks to look like tusks. One of Technoblade's eyelids twitched.

Cheeky little thing, she was. Did _all_ of the children here talk so much??

"I probably won't be there." He admitted, watching as her mocking frown turned into an expression of complete surprise.

"Of course you will, silly! Everyone in Manberg goes to the festival! There's even a lot of people that visit from other cities and villages across the world!" She spread her arms out wide to accentuate her point. Her face suddenly turned thoughtful and... a little sad. "Though I don't think there'll be many visitors this time around. Especially from Pogtopia. We'll just hafta party _extra_ hard to make up for it!" Technoblade tilted his head at that.

What kind of name was _Pogtopia??_

His confusion must've shown on his face because the girl huffed, peering at him closer.

"You aren't from around here, are you?" She asked curiously. He sighed. Tubbo asked him the exact same thing.

"No, I'm not." 

"Yeah, I could tell." She giggled and flipped her short hair again. "But if you go to the festival, why don't you look for me? I'm super-cool, so people will immediately like you if you hang out with me and my friends! You could obviously use some help in that department." 

This girl was just a female Tommy, what--? Technoblade good-naturedly rolled his eyes.

"Well, I think you've _definitely_ just convinced me..." His voice was dripping with sarcasm, but the girl either didn't pick it up or didn't care.

"Drista! Nice to meet ya mista!" The girl quipped, obviously having that line prepared ahead of time. She looked really proud of herself for it. Drista held out a hand with a shit-eating grin. Technoblade concluded she was the type who liked to cause trouble. He shook her hand, careful not to accidentally scratch her.

"Technoblade." The fighter responded, giving her a tiny smile. She beamed, like getting him to smile was a big achievement. 

"Okay, Mr... _Technoblade,_ what brings you--" Drista began, only to be cut off by an irritated yell from behind the buildings across from them. 

"DRISTA!!" It called, causing Technoblade to snort and Drista to sheepishly smirk. "WHERE DID YOU GO _THIS_ TIME?"

"We'll continue this at the festival. Brother-dearest found me." The girl giggled again, picking up the posters and running across the street with a wave. "Bye Mr. Blade!!" She called over her shoulder before vanishing behind a shop. He gave a small wave back, the phenomenon of being casually approached by random people and talked to like a human still completely freaking him out. However, his mind was now occupied by her brother's voice. That voice was _super_ familiar, and it took all of Technoblade's restraint not to run after the girl and see who her brother was. 

"Yeah, Drista is a lively one." Phil's voice sounded behind him, causing him to whirl around in shock. "Sweet girl, though. She's constantly running from her brother to keep him on his toes." He remarked with a fond chuckle.

How does he keep _doing_ that?!

Phil gave a pleased sigh as he latched his now-bulging satchel shut and turned around. 

"Alright. Let's go, then." 

And off the two men were again; in all of their awkward silence glory. Technoblade decided to distract himself by taking in the new sights, watching people go about their day and the weird yellow bugs that buzzed everywhere that he realized were the bees he had read about and the cute dogs that ran around with the children. 

He... kind of wished the Nether was as bustling as this. 

It was charming in a way Technoblade had only ever read about.

When the City Hall was in sight, a beautiful, modest building with a black flag fluttering off the front, Technoblade stopped, drawing Phil's attention. The fighter looked around for any people around the front of the City Hall before pulling the cloak's hood from his head and freeing his tied-back hair. Phil raised an eyebrow, but he stayed silent. 

"I want my sword back." Technoblade demanded simply and quietly, unsure of what the response would be. Phil frowned and gave a low sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"And why would you need it?" The winged man asked right back, though not shooting him down.

"It's just... somethin' that means a lot to me, and I would much rather have it by my side." The fighter explained, feeling suddenly incredibly foolish and childish despite standing a full head over the other man and, arguably, having done many more worse, legendary feats. "I don't plan on usin' it until I go back, but I still want it with me just in case somethin' happens. I've had assassinations attempted on me before, and right now, I'm woefully ill-equipped to deal with one."

The silence after his justification stretched on and on, and Technoblade began to lose hope that just asking for it back would yield results. Would he have to fight for it? While he knew he definitely had a chance with just his teeth and claws, it was something he didn't want to have to do.

Finally, blessedly, Phil gave him a slow, skeptical nod, and flipped back the flap of his haori. Technoblade stared in surprise as the winged man drew the clean, glittering blade from the straps of his kimono. 

"You're still going to uphold your promises, correct?" Phil asked him, still withholding the sword from the fighter. 

"Yes." He responded simply, eyeing his blade hungrily. The voices seemed to take a liking to this situation and got a little louder. Their words were a garbled mess, but now he could make one out among all the others. 

_"Blood."_

Shaking his head, Technoblade reached out and took the sword, immediately hushing the voices a little bit; back to their ignorable whispers. The fighter tucked the blade into the red fabric of his sash, immediately relaxing considerably with the return of his weapon.

"Righto..." Phil muttered as they began to walk towards City Hall again. 

A few more minutes passed in silence, and the building loomed ever closer, the front of the City Hall abandoned in favor of the plaza to set up for the festival. While they walked, Technoblade inhaled quietly and decided to ask the question that's been on his mind since Phil pulled the arrows from him in the tower yesterday. 

"Why are you doin' this?" He stared pointedly at the back of Phil's head, who didn't turn this time; just kept walking.

"I don't know." He responded simply, leaving Technoblade with way more questions than answers at this point. 

Technoblade, walking stiffly behind Phil towards a destination where the older wanted something out of him made the countless times he'd done this exact same walk with Hypixel flash through his mind. Criminal lord and young fighting prodigy commanding respect as they walked through the netherrack halls, Technoblade not speaking unless spoken to and Hypixel commanding people with his eyes alone. 

Why did he keep thinking like this??

There were no parallels between the two men.

Like, at least he knew where he stood with Hypixel. 

Phil, though he would die before admitting it, _terrified_ him.

Because he didn't _understand_ him.

In the short three, almost four days he's spent in the Overworld, Technoblade has been more confused in this span of time than he'd been his entire life.

And he _slaughtered_ people for a living. He's seen things about people and understood things about people almost nobody had before.

So why was he so discombobulated by this place??

Roughly shaking his head to clear these obnoxious thoughts, Technoblade noticed they had approached the white marble steps of the building, imposing dark doors quiet and unguarded.

Why would they be guarded anyway? 

This _really_ wasn't the Nether.

Phil stood at the base of the stairs as Technoblade walked to the doors, already roping in his signature blank look and straight back. The fighter turned to look at the winged man with a thankful head-dip; the simple gesture being all he could muster. What he saw froze him, one hand on the golden doorknobs, the other resting instinctually on the hilt of his sword.

Phil's gaze had melted from one of thoughtfulness and coldness to an overwhelming amount of sadness and pity.

Pity??

The winged man turned to walk away, but Technoblade heard him mutter one last thing as he stared at his retreating back, the fighter's ear twitching.

"So young..."

//||\\\

_Click, clack, click, clack._

_Click._

_Clack._

_Click._

_Smack!_

_"Shit..."_

_Click._

_Clack._

He slammed a fist onto the oak desk before him, glaring over at the other man seated at the (relatively larger) other desk and making a pile of previously organized papers slip down and flutter to the marble platform below. He let out a groan.

The clicking of that damned pen was going to be the death of him, holy shit--

"Got a problem over there, sweet-cheeks??" The sound of his... co-worker? Boss?? Whatever he was, his voice grated against his eardrums at this point, having been trapped in this massive office with the horned man for at least a day now awaiting news on any recent developments. The empty seats and desks that lined the floor below them mocked him. They _should_ have people who can do this work for them in those seats, but why would Schlatt have extra people who could overhear him there?? Those chairs have been completely void of politicians and workers for nearly a decade now.

So _someone_ had to take their job seriously around here.

"Maybe I do, Schlatt!! Why don't you actually fucking do something instead of sitting there clicking a pen!!" He exclaimed, earning him a dryly amused look from the president. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers to fight off the oncoming headache. "If you're so concerned, why don't you fucking go and look for him yourself instead of sitting on your fat ass and making me do all of the rest of the work _for_ you!!"

"Hey, you're the one who took me out to eat." The president countered, trying to find a good excuse as to why the Vice President was doing the President's work.

"Yeah, but I didn't think it would make you an even bigger dick today!! It was for de-stressing, but not to this level! You're being even worse than usual!" 

"You're right, I _do_ have a big dick."

"You're not even fucking listening to me."

"Awww does the ducky have his feathers all ruffled??" He mock-pouted, taking a swig from his glass of whiskey. Somehow, no matter how much this bastard drank, he never seemed to get drunk, and it was terrifying; the amount of alcohol Schlatt could consume in a day. Quackity had bets placed that when he died, it would be liver failure. "Why don't you just give me a sad quack, Quackity...?" He mocked him again, knowing this WOULD actually ruffle Quackity's feathers. 

He wasn't exactly known for his even temper.

Why did he combine his votes with this guy, again?

"Un-fucking-believable." The Vice President grumbled, furiously fixing his beanie and picking up the pencil he had snapped. The writing half would have to do. He really didn't want to get up right now to get a new one.

Or to pick up his papers.

He can do that later.

Or Schlatt can do it when he finally gets bored of being a dickhead.

Why was it _Quackity_ being the sensible one right now?? Usually, he's the one who gets on Schlatt's nerves with his signature flirty bits. 

Maybe he's way more stressed than he thought he was.

Or maybe it's the fact that despite being practically equal in the workplace, Schlatt never tells Quackity fucking _anything._

Or MAYBE it's that Schlatt makes all the decisions, the democracy basically demolished at this point. They didn't even have a Congress anymore...

Grumbling obscenities under his breath, the vice president made a rash decision to get to his feet and stomp through the rows and rows of wooden desks and out of the office, aware of Schlatt's most-likely annoyed look following him as he shoved the massive doors open and left.

He can wait on his own, for all Quackity fucking cared. 

He didn't really want to be there for another shit-show, anyway.

//||\\\

The inside of Manberg's City Hall was the most beautiful yet unnecessary thing Technoblade had ever laid his eyes on. Like, holy shit it was the grandest interior he'd ever seen in his entire life. Walking through the front doors put him in a huge room, ornately decorated with marble and quartz pillars and artwork, huge windows, and glowing chandeliers that took up most of the rich, dark oak ceiling. The floor was decorated with patterns that spiraled in a massive circle, and there were two large staircases that... probably led to the same place, if he was seeing that correctly.

Technoblade himself immediately felt out-of-place; like he really didn't belong there.

(Which he really didn't).

The fighter stood, aghast, at the doors, which had slammed shut behind him. He let his gaze roam around the beautiful space, not even really wanting to walk on the clean, shiny floors. 

He'd read of places this ornate in tales, but had never thought they would still be around to this day.

It was probably because of this slack-jawed gaze that caused him to completely miss the uniform clicks of someone's shoes on the marble. The clicks slowed suddenly, and then immediately sped up.

"Techno?!" A high-pitched, accented voice surprised Technoblade from his stupor. He blinked and looked towards the voice, widening his eyes as none-other than little, horned Tubbo skidded to a halt in front of him. "Techno!! What are you doing here? How are your injuries?"

"Uh... hey, Tubbo. I'm doin' a lot better, thanks to you guys." The fighter responded, his mind reeling. Why was a sweet kid like him in the building of the world's central government?? Technoblade looked at Tubbo's bright green eyes and gave a small sigh. Might as well be honest. "I was goin' to see the president per his request." 

Tubbo seemed to instantly perk up a little bit more, giving Technoblade a big grin and... not even asking why.

"Okay!! I can take you to him if you'd like." 

He tilted his head. "How?" The kid took the cloak off of his shoulders and hung it on an overly-fancy golden coatrack. 

"Well I mean, I _live_ here, pretty much." He laughed at Technoblade's dumbfounded expression, though his voice suddenly sounded slightly forced, and his face had darkened a tiny bit. If he didn't associate with criminals and have to read facial expressions all the time, he would've missed it. "Yeah, I never told you who my dad was, huh?" 

"I don't think you got around to it... no." He responded weakly, now understanding the goat features and the black suit a lot more than he had previously. Tubbo suddenly looked kind of fidgety; in the same fashion that he did back in the tower when Technoblade had mentioned parents the first time.

The action immediately set off some red flags in his head as he looked down at the boy, but he didn't want to pry. So instead, he awkwardly reached out and ruffled the kid's hair, earning him a warm, surprised look from those big eyes. It seemed to put him at ease a bit, so Technoblade assumed he just did something right. At least he didn't protest it as Tommy did with Phil. 

That would have been kinda awkward, not gonna lie.

"Well, you can follow me then! I think he's still in the office."

"Oh, is he busy? I could come back later in case I'm interruptin'... government stuff."

"No, I don't think so! He works at his... own pace." With that, Tubbo beckoned for Technoblade to follow him to the double staircases. Technoblade looked at them as they approached the bases. He wasn't one to ever initiate casual conversation, but he was fascinated. 

And... well Tubbo's complete trust in him was softening his resolve a little bit.

It scared him, too.

"So... why two staircases?" He asked curiously, his earlier suspicions having been confirmed at this point. They did indeed lead to the same floor and place. Tubbo laughed again with a small shrug. The laugh sounded much more genuine this time around. Technoblade flicked an ear. Tubbo had a loud, throaty laugh that made his head tilt back. It wasn't obnoxiously loud and outburst-y like Tommy's, though. More honest sounding, if that made sense. Over-all, this kid had a sense of politeness and innocence that the other lacked. It was clear to see why they were such good friends. They complimented each other perfectly.

The thought of friendship and festivals and children was so... normal and far from his own life that it almost made him laugh. Tubbo motioned towards the dual sets of steps.

"Well, it's a different experience each time up!" He exclaimed. Technoblade jokingly rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't even make sense. They're the exact same."

"They are not!! I swear I go up the right one faster than the left!!" Tubbo retorted, crossing his arms in defiance. His little fluffy tail stuck straight up in the air. Technoblade snorted, causing Tubbo to whirl around. 

The fighter'll give the kid this: both he and Tommy have guts. 

_~~If only he knew **what** he was challenging right now...~~ _

"Then I'll race you!" He challenged, giving Technoblade a smirk. "Or are you not willing to put your statement to the test?" The kid had the audacity to _taunt_ him. The fighter grinned back, feeling at more ease with this kid than anyone he'd talked to before. (Except Tommy). 

"Alright then. Technoblade is never wrong." He snipped back, approaching the left staircase and eyeing Tubbo, who was already standing at the right. 

"Ready..." Tubbo drew out, bending his knees a little. Technoblade did the same. Despite their legs being practically the same length and both being pretty thin guys, the fighter knows he would win.

He was the fastest thing in the Nether, after all.

"GO!" The kid shouted, both of them pushing off and sprinting up the stairs as fast as they could. Technoblade took the steps two at a time, hopping neatly up to the top of the final step by hauling himself up with the banister. He turned to glance at the other staircase, where Tubbo hopped up from a few seconds later. The kid doubled over to catch his breath, staring at Technoblade in shock and... _again_ with the awe from these kids.

_~~'I don't deserve your amazement, stop it.'~~ _

"Wow... How... how did you... do that?!" He asked between gasps, Technoblade cockily sauntering over and patting him on the back. 

"Technoblade never dies, baby." He quipped, earning him an incredulous look from Tubbo as he straightened a little, his face flushed as he realized he had lost his own challenge.

"Well, alright I admit the two staircases are a bit much." The boy chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"Or maybe you're actually right and my skills just can't be matched." Technoblade decided to tease back, bringing the confidence back into Tubbo's face.

"Yeah! We'll have to race again sometime!" He exclaimed cheerily as he began to lead Technoblade away from the stairs and down a large, sunny hallway. Technoblade shrugged.

"Perhaps."

A few moments passed in a comfortable silence until Tubbo decided to initiate conversation. Despite liking the kid a lot, Technoblade couldn't help but internally groan as he opened his mouth.

"So the Manberg Founding Festival is in a couple days! Have you seen the posters for it yet?" 

"I have."

"Do you think you'll be going? Tommy and I will!" The kid's eyes were bright with excitement, the nervousness from earlier almost completely melted away. He reminded Technoblade of little Drista from the plaza.

"I don't know. Probably not."

"Aww, you should! The festival is always so much fun!"

"Parties aren't really my thing."

"It's not just a party!! There's games and contests and lots of food! Oh, and Schla-- _the President_ always makes a speech towards the end!" Technoblade glanced down at him with a furrowed brow as he corrected himself, though the kid didn't notice. He just kept talking. "Niki always sells flowers and cakes by Phil's tavern, so there's always a lot of people down by the edge of the city. The festival is like, city-wide! My favorite place is Mr. Ranboo's honey stand that he always sets up in the plaza, though. I love honey, and he lets me look at the bees! There's also lots of dancing and a fighting competition towards the end! Only boxing though. Quackity says swords would send the wrong kind of message."

Technoblade just let Tubbo explain the festival. In all honesty, it sounded like a great time. 

Too bad he would probably be back where he belonged before then. Though he probably wouldn't go even if he was still here. Large gathered crowds of people were not exactly Technoblade's forte, despite basically being surrounded by them all day every day. Plus, a boxing competition? Technoblade wouldn't be able to resist if he was there, and that would probably lead to him being found out or accidentally killing someone. Swords not being allowed was a valid reason, but he would probably accidentally end up pulling his out anyway on sheer reflex and bloodlust alone.

He shook his head slightly to clear the thoughts. Better to just not think of it and make Tubbo think he was considering going. He looked down at the kid, who had finally stopped talking.

"So I take it you like bees?" The fighter asked, thinking about what Tubbo said about his favorite stand. The little hybrid nodded enthusiastically as they took a turn.

"I love bees! They're just so interesting and hard-working. If I were to ever become president, I'd want to work just as hard as a bee!" 

"Are you really admirin' an insect's work ethic right now?"

"Well, why not? They have _excellent_ work ethic!"

"Right."

Tubbo chuckled a little as they turned another corner and walked out in a foyer, just as ornately decorated as the rest of the building. Both hybrids flicked an ear and exchanged a glance as literal stomps pounded from the big, single staircase that stood pressed against the middle of the back of the wall. A short, suit-wearing, beanie-donning, dark-skinned man with a plume of yellow tail-feathers sticking from his coattails marched off of the steps, flushed with what Technoblade could tell immediately was fury.

Tubbo recognized it too.

"Quackity?" The man slowed, looking up in surprise. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, what's up, Tubbo?" He sighed. It was a tight, familiar sigh of frustration. One Technoblade himself used all the time. "Yeah, I'm fine. Fucking Schlatt just decided to give me all of his work again."

Technoblade shifted awkwardly on his feet as Tubbo seemed to physically deflate a little bit.

"Oh. Are you gonna do it?" 

"Fuck no! I walked out on his stupid goat-ass!" Quackity talked with his hands, throwing an arm back towards the stairs and the huge set of oak double doors that were at the top. Tubbo's little tail flicked, and Quackity sighed again. "No offense, kid."

"It's okay."

"He just needs to take his job seriously and give more say to other people so things like this don't happen! I've been saying this for years and he just doesn't fucking listen!!" Quackity ranted. This seemed to be something the two talked about often because Tubbo merely stayed quiet and nodded, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

Technoblade was just growing more uncomfortable by the second.

 _This_ was Vice President Quackity?

To say the least, Technoblade was not exactly impressed nor did he have a very good first impression of his first governmental power. He was just a short, foul-mouthed dude who looked to be barely five years his senior.

Quackity, after a few more moments of awkward silence (at least for Technoblade), finally seemed to notice the tall pink-haired stranger with the deadly-looking fangs and diamond sword that had been there the entire time. The vice president's brown eyes searched him over for a few seconds before he seemed to come to a sudden realization. 

"Oh shit... You're him!!" He exclaimed, causing Technoblade to widen his eyes in barely-disguised panic, a hand going reflexively to the hilt of his sword.

Did he know who he was?!

Shit, not in front of the kid!

One of the people who actually trusted him, for some reason..

Tubbo looked confused, looking back and forth between the two adults.

The vice president didn't pick up on his panic and instead reached out a hand.

"Vice President Alex Quackity. You're the one Schlatt sent for, right?" He gave Technoblade a semi-strained smile, catching the fighter completely and utterly off-guard.

So he... didn't?

Jesus his emotions are just being whipped around right now.

His politically smart brain kicking in, he gripped Quackity's hand, mindful not to claw his skin in his stupor.

"Uh... I am." He managed, still going through massive feelings of relief. Tubbo looked surprised, but stayed oddly quiet. He had been silent since Quackity's rant, his eyes distant.

"Sick, man. He's been wondering where you were."

"I got held up." 

"Obviously. Shit, finally, he'll do his work after this!" The feathered man reached up from his hand and grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the stairs.

"Oh! Uh... Bye Techno!! It was great seeing you again!" Tubbo exclaimed after them, looking still-distant and a little disappointed. Technoblade turned and gave the kid a little smile and a wave.

"And... uh, Quackity! See you later!" With that, the two began to climb the steps, Tubbo walking from the foyer and vanishing around a corner.

"Fuck, man I'm so happy you're finally here. Techno, was it?" Quackity gave Technoblade a relieved grin as they got to the doors. Before he could respond, the duck hybrid pushed open the doors and shoved Technoblade inside ahead of him.

"HEY FUCKWAD! YOUR BITCH IS HERE!"

The shout startled Technoblade, who was given another unceremonious shove into the desk-filled room as Quackity turned on his heel and left, slamming the doors. The fighter winced, his sensitive ears not exactly having enjoyed that.

Is this really who helped run the world's government??

Seriously??

His doubts about governmental powers had grown exponentially in only the last twenty minutes, and he hadn't even spoken to the actual president himself yet.

Technoblade was starting to understand why this had brought Hypixel so much stress. 

With a small sigh, the fighter picked his way through the empty seats and tables that were probably supposed to be for a congress or senate or house of representatives or... _something_ other than empty space.

That was his first red flag.

The second red flag was seeing the half-empty bottle of whiskey and a full ice-filled shot glass sitting on the massive desk where the president was sitting, his back turned to Technoblade. The fighter had to look up to see the man, as the desk was perched on a tall marble pedestal lined with stairs. All he could really see was a head of messy brown hair and large, curled ram horns around fluffy brown ears; like Tubbo's.

The resemblance was already kicking in.

Technoblade stood silently in front of the steps, staring up at the president with a hand resting on the hilt of his sword again; for reassurance.

"So." The president began, Technoblade flicking his tail in acknowledgment. "Technoblade, the Blood God, has finally decided to grace me with his presence."

Well, this was a surprise. He sounded as sober and lucid as he could be. Was the whiskey an aesthetic thing, then? The president threw a hand out to the side, as if to portray carelessness, but his tone was stiff.

"What held you up? I expected you days ago." 

"I've never been to the Overworld before, so some of the mobs here caught me pretty off-guard." He responded, drawing back into his blank shell and monotone voice. The horned man nodded slightly.

"Yet you're still alive. I'm impressed."

"Technoblade never dies." The response was automatic, but it worked. The president chuckled.

"Well, I can see that, now." He tapped a horn absently with a clawed index finger. "They don't call you the Blood God for nothing." 

"Guess not." Technoblade shrugged to himself, not exactly liking the direction this conversation was taking.

_'What you do best...'_

The words from Hypixel echoed in his mind, and he realized he was probably being called for what he thought initially.

Why would he be asked to do anything different?

Why did he even have any hope of that?

The squeaking of a chair brought the fighter back into the present, and he stared up at the horned man, who had turned around to peer down at him. The action was dramatic and drawn-out, like something straight out of a book. Technoblade twitched an eyebrow in restrained exasperation.

His eyes were a cold, steely grey.

They were calculating and careful, but also confident and cocky.

That was, in Technoblade's experience, a very dangerous combination.

"Let's get down to business, Technoblade." He started, giving the fighter what he probably thought was a warm smile, but it came off as a mirthless smirk. "I don't want any misconceptions between the two of us, so let's just agree to be honest with each other here, first and foremost. Hypixel couldn't understand that, but I have high hopes for you. None of this conversation will leave the walls of this office."

"Okay..." Technoblade answered carefully, the president's voice silky and smooth like ice, losing its bitter stiffness.

His voice reminded him of Phil's eyes.

The president gave him a nod, threading his fingers together.

"That's a good boy." He condescended, most-likely testing if Technoblade could take it. 

He could.

When a few moments had passed without the stare between the two men breaking, the president smiled even wider, sharp teeth bared. He reminded Technoblade of a predator leering over its prey as it took the final gasps of its sad, pathetic life.

How Technoblade probably looked to his opponents before he drained theirs.

"I've watched some of your fights, Technoblade." He began, drawing out a quick look of surprise from the fighter. _He_ must have been who Hypixel's guest was the day his father told him about the job, then. A lot of things and behaviors were suddenly starting to make a lot of sense. "You're quick, efficient, and emotionless. I like that. You don't leave too much of a mess."

To the trained eye, Technoblade was actually _very_ messy when it came to his kills, spilling unnecessary blood just to look at it and feel it on his skin. To quench his bloodthirst and keep the voices quiet. But to an average human who hadn't seen as much brutality as he had, it was easy to think he wasn't.

Or he was bluffing; singing Technoblade's praises to earn him good-guy points. He decided to play along, not wanting this to go any slower. The office was still giving him an awful feeling.

"It's just what I do."

"And you're very good at what you do. How long have you been in your... em... line of work, should we say?"

 _Now_ they were getting to the meat of the conversation.

"Since I was thirteen."

"Thirteen! When I was thirteen, I had barely started learning the ways of selling lemonade!" He exclaimed.

Now he was drawing contrast between their sills and experiences; a subtle tactic that once again brought Technoblade's... _talent_ into the spotlight.

This man was very smart when it came to conversation, the fighter had to give him that. Too bad Technoblade's seen it all before.

"As you said, I'm good at what I do." He decided to once again play into it, easily navigating the familiar sliminess of an Underground criminal lord.

Except this man ran the entire government of the Overworld.

"Right. Say, Technoblade." The president tilted his head. Technoblade quirked up an eyebrow in silent question. "You've heard of the recent attack on Manberg, right?" 

"I have." The fighter responded with a little nod. 

"Have you heard of the new city called Pogtopia?" He asked, his smile melting a little bit and shadowing over as he spoke. The name Pogtopia, that was what Drista had been talking about earlier. Technoblade raised his hands and furrowed his brow as if to say _'I've lived in the Nether my whole life, dumbass.'_

The president cleared his throat before continuing with, "Pogtopia is a new settlement made just outside Manberg in the open land. A lot of it, I've come to find out, is built underground. It's home to a bunch of terrorists and rebels who say I'm 'unfit to lead' and 'a tyrant' and that I've 'changed the democracy into a monarchy'. Just bullshit to turn _my_ people against me. It also happens to be orchestrated by a man I exiled years ago." Technoblade listened silently as he paused to compose himself. "They charged the city of Manberg at night and set off TNT underground."

Now that was a surprise. They blew up the city from the ground up? Jesus. Now Technoblade was getting a better grasp on what the job might be. He flicked his tail.

"So I assume I'm here to do somethin' about it?"

"In a sense, yes." He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Do you have a family, Technoblade?"

Once again, something to catch him off-guard. He had Hypixel, but... that was it. His life didn't exactly give him time to spend time with others anyway. The fighter rolled his eyes.

"I'm an orphan who kills people for a livin'."

"Don't get smart with me, Technoblade." The president warned, earning him another quirked eyebrow. "I do. I have a little boy. I don't know if you saw him. Tubbo?" Technoblade blinked but didn't say anything.

"He's a sweet kid. Smart too; wouldn't hurt a fly. I raised him to follow in my footsteps and be the next president of Manberg." The president's face shadowed over even more. "That's why it pains me to have you here."

Technoblade blinked, not entirely sure he was understanding. Yeah, Tubbo is a good kid. He flicked an ear, some deep part of him dreading the president's answer to the question forming on his tongue.

"What does Tubbo have to do with this at all?"

The president looked surprised, but heaved a sigh and got to his feet, leaning over the desk to lock eyes with Technoblade. "I know my own son has been helping the traitors behind my back, feeding them inside information." His voice had lowered to a growl.

Oh no. Technoblade swallowed hard, the little bit of dread he'd been feeling since he looked the president in the eyes beginning to pool and stir in the pit of his stomach.

"I hate to do this, I really do."

Oh god.

Oh no.

"But an example needs to be made. That I, President Jebediah Schlatt, do NOT tolerate traitors, no matter who they are."

Technoblade's jaw slackened as his mind put two and two together.

No.

Not the kid.

Wasn't this a democracy that promoted free speech?

But the TNT...

Technoblade's mind began to spin.

"Tubbo betrayed me. A public example should quell whatever the Pogtopia traitors are planning."

Not Tubbo.

Not sweet, innocent Tubbo.

Not... Tubbo who helped them blow up the city...

He'd only known him for just over a day.

But he was a kid...

"I want you, Technoblade..."

Technoblade's arms fell to the side.

"I want you to take him out."

That's when the ground felt like it collapsed underneath him, the voices in his head calling out for blood.

The sun beat down on Technoblade's face, heating up his skin a little bit to combat the chill he'd been feeling since leaving the Nether. The fighter was sitting outside City Hall, his back leaning against the marble steps that led to the building. His eyes were squeezed shut and his face was tilted up towards the sky. A little picture of Tubbo given to him for a look description from Schlatt crumpled in his fist and the black cloak from Phil slung around his shoulders.

Well shit.

With a groan, Technoblade slumped forward, letting his face rest in his hands.

Once President Schlatt had finished telling the fighter about his job, the job where he had to _slaughter a child_ and go against everything he'd promised and believed in for fear of his entire livelihood being destroyed if he failed or refused, he had simply nodded, taken the picture from the president, and left without being dismissed, barely holding his emotions inside his empty facade.

Of course it had to be someone he'd just met and decided he liked.

Of course it had to be a fifteen-year-old.

One that was directly underneath the protection of the Angel of Death.

Fucked if he did, fucked if he didn't.

The fighter let out a shuddering breath. He'd never felt like this before killing someone. 

Probably because the ones he killed didn't trust him or like him like the kids he was saved by did.

How was he supposed to bring himself to doing it? And in _public,_ no less.

Well wait. The _festival_ was in what, two days?

No.

No.

How was he even considering that??

The voices were loud, attempting to comfort him; diverting for once from their usual activity of demanding blood. 

The fact that they were even back in the first place was something that made this job all the more imperative to make a decision about.

Fuck...

He was fucked.

Technoblade rubbed his forehead, massaging his pounding temple.

Screw government.

"You okay, mate? You look like shit."

And he thought this couldn't get any worse... The fighter grit his teeth as another horribly familiar voice piped up.

"Did Schlatt say something horrible, Techno? He doesn't have a filter, I'm sorry."

No. Technoblade couldn't look the condemned child and his best friend in the eyes. Not now. He shook his head.

"No. It's uh... just my injuries. I'm tired." He muttered, hearing sighs of relief from the kids.

"Good! Phil sent me down to get things for the tavern's dinner service tonight from the market, so Phil told me to get you too! Tubbo just happened to be here." Tommy explained with a wide smile, punctuated by a "Yep" from Tubbo.

So Phil could keep an eye on him. 

Shit, man.

"So come on! Phil's probably waiting." The blonde finished, getting Technoblade to look up at him and fake a smile. He avoided looking at Tubbo, who was standing slightly behind Tommy and was watching a bee.

"Right." Tommy reached out a hand and Technoblade grabbed it, the boy heaving him to his feet.

"Let's go, then! I'm fucking starved!" Tommy exclaimed, Tubbo nodding as the three started to head down the road into the plaza.

"I love Phil's stew!" 

Technoblade couldn't bring himself to add to their amiable conversation. He looked back at City Hall, widening his eyes and ducking his head back to the front quickly.

But he couldn't shake the feeling of Schlatt's curious stare from the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh thank you for all the comments, omg. You guys are all way too niiiiice, lmao! Also, holy shit-- over 200 kudos already?? How????!! You guys are fantastic!!!  
> I hope this chapter was alright, and thank you so much for reading!! <<33  
> As always, if you notice any errors or have any criticism, I'm always up for that!!  
> (Ack another late upload. I just got really carried away with this one, lmao. I had it ready yesterday evening but the Archive went down. Gotta love timing, huh?)  
> Also, happy late New Year!! Let's hope that 2021 is a little more merciful on us.
> 
> Disclaimer: EVERYONE NAMED IN THIS FIC IS A REAL-LIFE PERSON!! ALL SITUATIONS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF THESE PEOPLE ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND ARE NOT MEANT TO REPRESENT THE CREATORS AS A WHOLE. THESE CHARACTERS ARE JUST THAT: CHARACTERS AND PERSONAS THAT THESE CREATORS USE IN THEIR CONTENT.


	4. Pog Through the Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentioned Child Death/Harm | Blood/Violence/Injury | Descriptions of Animal Death and Mutilation
> 
> Techno needs a hug...  
> I felt so bad while writing this chapter, but it must be done. For the angst!!

His thoughts were like bugs.

Hundreds and hundreds of creepy-crawlies with long, stick-like legs, hard, pointed shells, and sharp pincers scuttling beneath the surface of his skin.

They tightrope-walked on his tendons, leaped off of his bones, and watched the world pass by through his eyes. 

They bit and snapped at his veins and tore away at the layers of his flesh.

They were itchy.

They were talking.

They filled his ears and made to drown him out of the real world entirely, it seemed.

They've returned years after leaving him to enjoy his own company.

His own little colony of loud internal insects, crawling back to their master.

Their beloved, pitiful master.

_"You don't have to do it."_

_"Do it."_

_"Just get it over with."  
_

_"Blood for the Blood God!!"_

God, they just wouldn't shut up. 

During the walk back from City Hall earlier, the voices had begun to get louder, but they weren't as bad as they were now. Technoblade had spent all day being pulled around town by Tommy and Tubbo, being introduced to some people - much against his will - and accompanying them as they ran errands for Phil as the sun dipped lower and lower over the roofs of the houses. He had tried to act normal and smile and talk like a person would, but Schlatt's orders echoed through his mind no matter how hard he had tried to push them out. 

When they had got back, Phil had shoved aprons in their arms, smiled, winked, and said "just in time for dinner service, boys." So, Technoblade had been caught up like one of Phil's children; bussing tables and taking orders for the evening dinner rush. The intense focus he was able to sink into the menial task meant he was able to push his mind into peace for a while since he had something to do. There were a few mishaps, as criminal Underground royalty didn't exactly bus tables. He had taken food to the wrong tables a few times, forgot to smile at customers, broke the quill he was supposed to be using to write orders down and dumped ink on the white fabric of the apron, etc etc the list goes on.

One family had even left because he was "too scary for the kids".

That had gotten a cackle out of Tommy, who exclaimed, "Blade the beast!! He'll eat your young and burn your steak!! Mwahahaha!!" The fighter, unusually flushed with embarrassment, had rubbed the back of his head and grumbled, earning him a pat on the back from Tubbo.

"It's okay, Techno! Just remember to smile!" The little brunette beamed up at him, and Technoblade made an effort to smile more throughout the night. Once or twice, he caught Phil watching him with that ever-present and slightly irritating thoughtfulness in his eyes. Like he was trying to figure something out.

However, despite the absolute _wreck_ that was his customer service, surprisingly, it had been... pretty nice otherwise.

It had been normal... For a while there, he had even forgotten the whole point of him being up here in the first place. He had joked and teased and had been treated like he was a part of Tubbo and Tommy's little unit.

He had been able to be the human he actually was and had always wanted to be for a few hours.

It was after-hours now, and the little family had just finished cleaning up, Technoblade not being allowed after accidentally shattering a plate; much to (oddly) Phil's amusement. He had sat at the counter, ate a baked potato, and attempted to listen to them talk and keep control of his own head that had started to buzz once the voices realized his tasks wouldn't end up with blood and dead bodies everywhere. 

Which... hadn't worked very well. He'd tried everything - even running through Sun Tzu quotes in his mind, which was a good coping mechanism after fights, but not even that worked.

_"Honor your namesake."_

_"Technoob"_

_"Technobad."_

_"He helped blow up the city!"_

_"He's a kid."_

The itching was intense and everywhere. It was something he couldn't scratch away. It was an odd feeling that started from his head and flamed through his aching, wounded body. It made him tense and jumpy.

Tubbo.

The absence of a purpose at that moment brought back everything he had been able to forget for a little bit there.

Technoblade had to kill Tubbo.

Why didn't he want to kill Tubbo?

Why was he any different from hundreds of others?

Tubbo.

_"Tubbo."_

_"Bees."_

_"Tubbo!"_

_"Tubbo."_

_"Tommy."_

_"Pog."_

_"Pogchamp!!"_

_"Tommy."_

_"Phil."_

_"Talk to Phil!"_

_"Tommy."_

_"Tubbo."_

_"Nice people."_

_"They're nice people."_

Tubbo.

Tubbo was standing right in front of him.

Tubbo was talking to his best friend, Tommy.

Tommy was trapped in a one-armed embrace from the Angel of Death, Philza; his _father._

Phil was smiling warmly at the young children who were still so innocent and convinced of the good in the world.

They were standing behind a simple bar counter in a simple, humble tavern at the edge of a simple, lively city. A simple, faint blush of moonlight shone through the windows and reflected off of his own simple pale skin. 

A simple city that was still half-demolished, parts of the area reduced to nothing but smoke-scented rubble.

Because of Tubbo.

No, that wasn't fair.

Or was it?

He's a _child._

_"Child."_

_"Blood for the Blood God."_

_"Love children."_

_"Tubbo!"_

_"Do it!"_

_"Technoshade."_

_"Technobad."_

_"E."_

_"Blood."_

_"E."_

_"Kill them."_

_"You know you can!!"_

_"1v3!!"_

_"1v3, let's goo!"_

_"E."_

Technoblade gripped the sides of his head, pressing his forehead against the wood of the counter he was sitting at.

Fuck, they were really back.

Leave the ring for a few days, and they make their absolutely _sunny_ return.

His chat.

He thought it was a childhood problem. Growing up wild didn't mean a whole lot for pleasant conversation and company, so they had appeared. Quiet and few at first, but quickly building in volume and numbers.

He had hoped to never hear their voices again - with their adding gas to his blood-fueled fire.

_"Wild!"_

_"Pogchamp."_

_"Love you Techno."_

_"Did we help?!"_

_"E."_

_"E."  
_

He grit his teeth, straining to hear the talk going on between the three people who didn't have these voices in their brains.

People who could talk as they pleased, listened as they pleased, _do_ what they pleased.

_"Jealous."_

_"Technojealous."_

_"Technobad."_

_"Family."_

_"Hypixel."_

_"E."_

_"TechnoJEALOUS."_

_"Pig rank."_

_"Technoblade neva' dies."_

The hybrid scowled into the oak, still trying to pull himself out of the voices in a practiced maneuver long forgotten.

What did he even have to be jealous of??

Technoblade had everything he ever wanted, and so did they.

Just as his head was beginning to spin, a gentle tap on his shoulder jolted him from the sea of voices, bringing the real world back into audible focus. 

"...okay, Techno??" Tommy's voice washed over him, drawing his gaze from the wood back to the little family, the kids' eyes alight with concern, and Phil's...

Well, he looked like Phil.

Holding back a grimace, the fighter removed his hands from his head, repeating the words _'Don't look at Tubbo'_ in his head like a mantra. The voices picked it up, echoing it back ten-fold in his own skull.

His temples began to pound.

They were worse than when he was a kid.

"Yeah. Yeah, uh... I need... fresh air." Technoblade managed, though he doubted that quelled their consternation in the slightest. Without warning, the voices drowned out whatever Tubbo and Tommy said to him as he pushed himself quickly to his feet. He walked hurriedly and purposefully towards the door, trying to keep himself as steady as possible. The hybrid's hands had begun to twitch slightly as he shoved it open with an unintentional slam, leaving at a painful sprint; his healing body protesting every single pounding footstep.

Technoblade had no idea how long he ran.

He only knew that his frenzied flight brought him out of the Manberg walls, which he assumed he somehow scaled over the course of the last hour.

Even if his mind hadn't quite caught up with his actions, the blood dripping from his palms _might_ just be a bit of an indicator on that front.

And he was once again out at night. The only things currently keeping him from most likely running into his certain death were the torches that were stuck in the dirt in a good mile-wide radius around the perimeters of the capital.

The flickering flames did little to warm him though, his body wracked in Overworld-brought-on shivers now that it realized it was out of the cozy warmth of Phil's tavern. The voices were now accompanied by an eerily vivid bout of laughter from Hypixel blending with the quiet calculations of President Schlatt. They were all as loud as ever and garbled together, the words smashing into a mess of nothing understandable; the only discernable thing being the calls for blood and survival.

The fighter slowed his pace into a brisk walk, following the torches into a grove of trees and stalks of bamboo. It was beautiful and teeming with life, the light keeping the mobs at bay. 

Fuck...

He was _screwed..._

Technoblade's tail lashed as, in his half-delusional journey through the wildlife, he bumped into a fat, fluffy sheep. The creature looked up at him, cocking its head to the side as he blinked at it for a few seconds. The twinkling stars from up above reflected in its black, glassy eyes. It moved its head, nuzzling into one of Technoblade's bloody, scraped hands. He patted it, letting his mind sprint to catch up with himself.

Wide ebony eyes met empty ruby.

A flash of green pervaded his vision, the little dots reminding him of Tubbo's wide, child-like eyes that looked at him in awe and happiness.

_"It's okay, Techno! Just remember to smile!"_

His eyes widened and the voices screamed at him, the uncomfortable itching feeling just under his skin returning full force.

He realized why this was happening to him.

Why he couldn't just kill the kid and go home, besides Phil's protection.

Tubbo and Tommy weren't _scared_ of him. They didn't know what he was. He could be who he always really wanted to be with them, and he had been; if only for a day. 

They _cared_ about him.

Was he really going to throw away the only scrap of humanity he had left??

Shit...

Why did he even care?? Why was he feeling this way???

The voices refusing to talk in anything less than shouts and his hand resting on the sheep's head, he drew his glittering diamond sword from his sash.

Silence.

Finally.

Sweet, sweet, blessed silence.

Crickets all around him sang their sweet nighttime tunes. Tunes he could finally concentrate on and listen to again.

Raising his hands, he plunged the dripping blade into the ravaged body of a large chicken, which let out a feeble, dying screech of pain. His chest heaved and the fog in his mind had slowly begun to clear as he tore it from the flesh, pink-tinted feathers scattering in the nighttime breeze. The air was thick with the cloying musk of iron and death as he swiped a bloody hand across his cheek, merely smearing the ichor over his skin.

Ten pigs, two cows, five sheep, some random finch-looking bird, and a fat chicken.

All dead in less than _thirty minutes._

With a groan, Technoblade slid down to his knees in a haze of pain from his ribs and thigh, sticking the blade back into the now-lifeless chicken corpse and supporting his weight on the handle. Yep, he definitely had just re-opened his wound.

He blankly stared ahead, his eyes roving over the downright _mutilated_ animals that littered the grove. Flesh and fur and hide ripped open and slashed, innards spilling onto the ground and empty eyes staring dead ahead. The little finch-thing was sliced into three pieces. The fluffy yellow head was laying at his knees, the beak open in the beginning of a screech it never let out.

The fighter flicked an ear, his hearing buzzing and full of ringing with the sudden absence of the voices. 

The embodiment of his lust for blood.

Sudden footsteps echoed in the quiet, breaking the silent vigil.

"What the fuck have you done?"

Technoblade's blood ran cold and he froze where he knelt, staring at the head of the little avian. The sharp, accented voice that came from behind him caught him off-guard, as the owner of the voice did.

"You fucking... _monster._ Turn around so I can see you."

Technoblade didn't turn, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip against the handle of his weapon. Fuck, why was _he_ here?

"Turn and face me or I'll cut your fucking head off, Techno." The Angel of Death growled, his voice laced with unrestrained fury and disgust. The fighter flinched involuntarily at the use of his name by someone who so openly and fully loathed him. Instead of turning, he raised his head and stared straight ahead, having to tear his gaze away from the fuzzy bird head. 

"Look, I--"

"I don't care. I thought the dinner service would be good for you tonight and maybe open your eyes a little bit. I guess I was wrong, huh?." 

"I needed to quiet the voices..." He muttered, slumping over and dropping his sword with a wet _thunk_. "And I couldn't hurt any of you."

"You couldn't, but you wanted to?"

"NO!" He shouted, hearing a jump and a wild rustle of feathers from where he assumed Phil was standing. Technoblade drew in a shuddering breath. "I _don't_ wanna hurt any of you." The fighter finally turned to face Phil, wet grass soaking into his pants as he shifted to get to his feet. His gaze was trained on the ground beneath his feet. He was trembling as he whispered, "and I don't know _why..."_

"What the fuck do you mean _'you don't know why?'_ I let you run around with my kids today because they really seem to like you and I was willing to give you a chance, but if you can't even know why _killing them_ is a repellent thought and then come out here and slaughter innocent animals as a... a fucking _substitute_ , what do you expect me to think?!" The winged man standing before him demanded, brow furrowed.

~~_'Give me a chance....?'_ ~~

"I don't know!!! Fuck, I don't know...! It should be so _easy_ but everythin' is messed up and I don't know what to--" He cut himself off with a choke, mentally cursing himself for spouting off so much. Shit, shit, what was he even _saying??_ Was he this _pathetic_ and _desperate_ that he just couldn't properly keep his damn thoughts to himself?? 

There was a tense, thick silence for a few moments; stretching on until, "...you hear voices?"

"Yeah."

"Since when?"

"As long as I can remember, really. Though I haven't heard them since Hypixel took me in. They like it when I fight." Technoblade muttered, his deep voice rasping and cracking as he strained to keep his emotions in check. He was spilling all this shit to the _Angel of Death._ A man who wanted him dead and had only known him for roughly two days. The man whose surrogate child was the target of Technoblade's assassination job. 

"Is that why you fight in the ring?"

"Yes and no. It keeps 'em quiet, yeah, but it's just really what I do. I wouldn't have anythin' if it weren't for Hypixel and the ring. Trust me, I can't stand myself either sometimes."

 _'Shut up, shut up, Techno!'_ He demanded internally, cursing himself with every word that came from his mouth.

"So you stay for a debt? If you don't like it, why don't you leave instead of doing his dirty work?"

At that, Technoblade couldn't help but let out a mirthless snort of laughter, his eyes still pointedly fixated on the red-tinted blades of grass and little grey pebbles below him. He heard a questioning grunt from Phil.

"You know the Underground, Philza. You know why I can't leave." With a small, defeated sigh, the fighter added, "And Hypixel, despite his... shortcomin's... _is_ still my father. He saved me from a life in the wild of the Nether where I probably would have died before I reached thirteen. He gave me a home and my status. No matter what I feel about him personally, I can't just ignore that."

"But you go out of your way to slaughter _all_ of the competition."

"It wasn't like that at first, I swear. I killed someone on accident when I was younger and now if you lose, you're guaranteed to die. Criminals are like that. Unfortunately, I'm too selfish to die yet. Bein' number one is somethin' I not only _have_ to keep at this point, but it's somethin' I also really _want,_ and I hate that I do."

Another silence, this one loaded with hundreds of unspoken words and unasked questions between the two men. Jesus this was all happening so fast. Steeling himself, Technoblade lifted his gaze to look at Phil, who was standing still with his swords laying on the ground and his arms limp by his sides. The moonlight shone from behind the winged man, his front dark and cloaked with shadow as the moonlight reflected off of his feathers. 

He was ethereal. Like something Technoblade would see in a dream.

Or a nightmare.

But once again, there was a look in his eyes that made a lump form in the back of the fighter's throat. 

It was sadness, pity, and fury all rolled into one amalgamation of awfulness that swept Technoblade's breath right from his chest and froze him in place. He fought to inhale, taking a deep breath of the iron-scented air.

"I know I don't deserve it and you don't know me really at all, but please make it quick, alright? Tell Hypixel and the kids that Technoblade never dies and I went to become a hermit and farm potatoes in the snow or some crap."

Phil said nothing, but moved forwards with a startling speed. His wings beat the air as he collided with Technoblade, and the fighter braced himself for the piercing pain of a sword in his side and the blackness that would soon surely follow as he stumbled back, squeezed his eyes shut, and held his breath. 

To say a pressure wrapped firmly around his waist and a forehead pressed against his chest was _not_ what he was expecting out of that would be a severe understatement. 

Tensing suddenly, Technoblade pried open his eyes and allowed himself to inhale. He looked down, not daring to move an inch. The only things his brain was able to process was that Phil's bucket hat had blown off his head and drifted down onto the ground and that he had little black feathers that poked from the high collar of his kimono.

"You're so fucking young..." Phil, the _Angel of Death,_ muttered into his crimson-spattered shirt, voice slightly muffled by the wrinkled fabric. " _Too_ fucking young... I legitimately came here ready to kill you..."

"I-- wha--" Technoblade stammered in response, his mind going completely and utterly numb.

Was he being _hugged??_

When was the last time he was _hugged?_ The word felt foreign to him, even in his own head. Slowly, unknowingly, and without a word, Technoblade slid down to his knees. An awful, horribly _warm_ feeling spread from his chest out to his hooves and the tips of his fingers. Phil had sunk down to the ground with him, silently supporting him as the fighter tried to sort out his muddled, mushy, and faraway thoughts.

"You shouldn't have to deal with any of this shit, Techno. You're what, eighteen?"

"I'm not exactly... sure." He managed to choke out, his eyes wide and his arms limp at his sides. The fighter's fingers grazed the tips of the fauna. "Nineteen, we think."

"You don't even _fucking_ know..." The winged man muttered, ebony feathers shining with moonlight. "You're just about the age of my boys."

"Oh." Was all he could manage at this point.

"I've been watching you since Tommy and Tubbo found you. I thought you would be older; colder; more like the animal I'd seen you be. But you seem like you could live here if you wanted. You're not too far gone, y'know." 

Technoblade shook his head with a frown. "I couldn't. I've been here days and I'm already breakin' down for the first time in front of the Angel of Death."

"That's what we call good ol' fashioned culture shock, son."

He flinched slightly at the endearment, though it wasn't meant to be literal. Phil either didn't notice or didn't care, as his arms didn't move from their positions on the fighter's waist, though the blonde shifted slightly as he spoke again.

"Who did Schlatt tell you to kill?"

At that, Technoblade stiffened, and Phil pulled back. His face was hard and cold and lined with frown lines and age. His eyes were still filled with shocking amounts of sympathy.

How the hell did he manage to get himself into _this_ situation??

Hypixel would have his head if he told the Angel of Death ring secrets. 

But...

When had he ever been _hugged?_

When had he ever been able to talk to people like a conventionally normal person and spill his emotions on accident like a dumb-as-fuck teenager??

"You... I--" He stammered in response, not sure what to do and for the first time in his life, _terrified_ about the consequences of making the wrong decision. Every choice he would make from here would have repercussions on either both him and his family or him and Phil's family.

"Why else would the dictat- _President_ request a private audience with the criminally crowned Blood God?" Phil asked bitterly, barely trying to cover his mistake and obvious distaste for Schlatt. (And Technoblade's status)

"Oh." He stated again, staring into the frosty depths of Phil's eyes, trying to communicate without words. It didn't seem like it was working. Phil cocked a blonde eyebrow.

"Who is it, Techno? I'm willing to help. As both a father to two boys, a surrogate to one, and an adventurer, I want to help you. I've seen that you can be given a chance. Sudden? Of course. Am I going to regret this later? Probably." He shrugged his shoulders, picking up the striped hat from the grass. "But I'll take a shot if you will. Call this a... temporary partnership, if you so desire."

"What's the catch?" Technoblade retorted with a scowl, retreating back into his politically-brilliant criminal negotiation mindset, not trusting the open display of kindness from a man who, minutes previously, had been ready to stab him where he stood.

"What catch? There is no catch."

"There's _always_ a catch, Philza."

Phil looked resigned at this point; the moment vanishing right into thin air as he remembered who exactly he was talking to. 

"You have no reason to, but I want you to trust me when I say there is no catch."

_"You're so much better than the rest of them, Techno. Never forget it, okay? I'm counting on you, little warrior."_

_"I know."_

_"Whatever happens, I want you to trust me okay?"_

_"Okay!! I love you, Dad!"_

_"Mhm."_

Technoblade stared.

He stared and stared and stared.

The voice of Hypixel layered itself in his mind. The fighter had no smart remarks, agreements, or witty sarcasm right now.

Trust him??

Could he??

Was he a fool to think this could be any different?? Could he save whatever he had left inside of the gaping black hole that was his heart? Fuck it had only been _days._

But this was also the best way to not get himself stabbed by Phil and maybe not have to kill Tubbo after all.

Gritting his teeth, Technoblade pounded a fist into the ground, his tail lashing as he averted his gaze from Phil once more.

"Tubbo."

He heard air being sucked in through teeth.

"What?"

"Tubbo."

"Oh. Oh my God."

"Yeah."

The pure horror and disgust that had so quickly filled Phil's voice triggered his ears to droop, his body instinctually trying to look as small and pathetic as possible. His ribs ached and the wound in his thigh was throbbing. The only thing Technoblade was finding solace in was the crown sitting on his head. 

"But... he's his _son."_

"Schlatt said he was 'conspirin' with traitors behind his back'. And that he 'wouldn't let it stand'." He inhaled. "I have to do it in public."

"Something to quell the traitors. Something that would hit them at their very core..."

"That's... that's the general idea, yeah. He'd probably paint me as a mad murderer afterward to get the shit off his own back, too. That was the vibe I got from that man." Technoblade let out another small chuckle. "All war is deception, after all."

"That fucking bastard..." The winged man growled. "I'm starting to feel infinitely glad it was Tubbo and Tommy that found you instead of anyone else."

"Why? Because you know I would've done it if I hadn't known him?"

"...Exactly."

"Well... Fuck."

"Yeah... Fuck."

The two men sat like that for what felt like hours. Under the moon, torches flickering somewhere beyond the thin line of foliage and bamboo, and in the midst of a pile of bloodied, mutilated animal corpses. 

On their knees, completely silent and contemplating.

"The festival is in two days."

"What?" Technoblade responded to the sudden comment, snapping from his stunned stupor.

"I- we- _some people and I_ have a plan to do something during the festival" Phil responded cryptically, their gazes locking once more. Technoblade's knees were beginning to protest being kneeled for so long, but he stayed put, intrigued.

"What do you mean?"

Phil looked at him before asking simply, "What did you think of Schlatt?"

Technoblade didn't even have to think before he answered with, "He gave me the same energy the crime lords of the Underground do. Sleazy, interested in self-benefit only, cares a lot about what _his_ people think about him, conceited, the list goes on. He was really smart when he talked with me, too. Schlatt was very complimentary towards me and my... _skills,_ careful not to give me too much information about the opposin' party and make his side look like the victims, which I can tell they weren't, considerin' he didn't hesitate for a second when he told me to kill his kid. There were no representatives from around the world at all and it seemed like there hadn't been for a long time, which can only lead me to believe that he's been workin' the government as a dictatorship since he took power. His ruthlessness when it came to my job gave me good insight on why more people other than your 'Pogtopia' haven't attempted a coup. They're probably scared of retribution. He mentioned exile. That would definitely scare the masses if it's been done before. In my opinion, he was _way_ too cocky in his skills and didn't have the foresight to think that I might be just as well versed in the world of politics as him, which leads me to believe he's not very powerful as a person. It seems like a very subtle case of fear-mongerin'. I personally think the concept of government in itself is ridiculous, despite livin' in the Nether my whole life. He seems to not care how many people are unhappy; just as long as he stays in control."

Exhaling softly as he finished talking, Technoblade had an immediate moment of regret when he took in the absolutely flabbergasted expression on Phil's face. 

_'God, you're such a nerd, stop fucking talking.'_

"You got _all that_ from a twenty-minute talk in his office??" Phil asked incredulously, to Technoblade's surprise. Though there was an air of pondering and thoughtfulness that he exuded. The fighter focused on that.

"My brain uh... I have a habit of... focusin' on little details and makin' a point to remember them for... some reason..." The fighter mumbled, knowing he went _way_ overboard with that explanation and answer to a simple question. 

To his surprise, Phil let out a loud burst of laughter that sounded at least semi-genuine. 

"Mate, that's fucking brilliant!!" The blonde exclaimed. Technoblade widened his eyes as Phil rubbed a finger over his stubbly chin. "So I take it you thought what he was doing was wrong?"

"I thought that much was obvious."

"Just making sure." Suddenly, Phil got to his feet, all humor in his expression replaced with how Technoblade himself usually looked when he was lost in thought. The fighter followed suit, wincing as his bones protested the sudden movements. Phil turned to look at Technoblade, stretching out his wings. "There's somebody I'm going to introduce you to tomorrow. I think I know how to help us all."

Whatever that meant. Technoblade nodded in a silent agreement, walking over to the chicken and picking up his sword; which was crusted with dark ichor and bits of muscle tissue. 

"No offense but" Phil motioned over Technoblade's body once he had straightened up with another wince, "you look like shit. Hold on."

With that little bit of warning, the fighter barely had any time to react before Phil stretched out his wings, grabbed Technoblade underneath his arms, and soared above the trees. 

Fighting back a scream that would most definitely not be what one considered manly, the fighter gaped as he was suddenly flying through the sky at speeds that would typically be near-impossible for normal avian hybrids; if books gave him any proper reference. Trees and rivers and torches blurred underneath the men for a few minutes before suddenly turning into harsh obsidian as they swooped over the Manberg wall. Damn... he ran a lot farther than he thought he did.

It was the best feeling Technoblade had ever felt; the wind blowing through his hair and hitting his skin, the coolness good against his wounds, and the feeling of sheer insignificance beneath the wide black sky almost... comforting. To think he had almost had a panic attack under it his second day...

He felt... _free._

Landing, however, was an ordeal. Instead of landing properly, since Phil was holding onto another fully-grown man, the avian hybrid merely dropped him in front of the tavern from the air, then tucked in his wings and landed next to him. Technoblade was thanking his lucky stars he had enough training in free-falling to be able to land neatly on his feet. No more embarrassment was really wanted tonight.

With a beckoning motion, Phil led Technoblade into the dimly lit tavern, the torches not having been relit once they started to die down. Still, it was warm and cozy, instantly fighting off the chill and goosebumps from the outside.

As Phil set about relighting the torches on the oak walls, Technoblade walked over to the counter; which was by the staircase that led to the room he'd slept in last night. Flicking an ear, the fighter heard a small snort come from underneath the counter. Bemused, Technoblade leaned over the wooden surface with a quirked eyebrow. 

What he saw brought a small smile to his face, torchlight glinting off of the white of his tusks against his pale skin. 

Tommy and Tubbo were curled up underneath the underside of the bar counter, curled into each other and snoring softly. Tubbo's tail twitched and he buried his face into Tommy's chest, who had his arms wrapped around his best friend. 

That weird warmth radiated out from his heart again, confusing him to no end and yet making all too much sense at the same time. 

_This_ was the person he was here to kill. This sweet little goat hybrid brunette who was snuggled up with his best friend underneath the counter of a bar. 

In a split-second decision, Technoblade steeled himself and hurried as quietly as he could up the stairs, going down the warm hallway to the linen closet he had been at only this morning.

It seemed so long ago, to be honest. So much had happened in one day, it was kinda crazy.

He clicked open the door and scanned the shelves stock-full of colorful cloth and old clothes. Finding what he was looking for, the hybrid grabbed what he needed, shut the door, and stepped back down the stairs in a way so as not to stir the loud-as-fuck teenager known as Tommy. 

Using skills of light-stepping he'd gained from the ring, he moved without a sound; creeping behind the bar counter and approaching the two sleeping kids. Flicking a pointed, gold-adorned ear, Technoblade flicked out the big woolen blanket he'd gotten from the closet and wrapped it around Tubbo and Tommy. He tucked the corners of the blanket underneath their shoulders and stepped back with a small, content sigh. 

The Overworld was cold to him and most-likely not them, but he didn't want to take any chances.

Another moment passed in content quiet - only interrupted by periodic snores from Tommy. Finally, the fighter turned around, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he made to go back up the stairs and fucking collapse. 

Except once again, he caught the icy blue of Phil's eyes watching him from the entrance to the wooden steps. Technoblade jumped in surprise, widening his eyes.

Seriously, how the fuck did he keep _doing_ that?

"I-- uh... I just-- they... cold..." He stammered, motioning wildly back with his clawed hands towards the bar counter where the two sleeping kids lay underneath the soft brown wool. Phil... _smiled._

The Angel of Death was giving the Blood God a soft, knowing, smirk-like smile, his arms crossed and his shoulder leaning against the wall. 

"Well, you're just full of surprises today, huh Techno?" 

Technoblade was very-well-aware of the burning in his face as he stuffed his hands furiously back into his pockets. 

"I just... the Overworld is a way colder place than the Nether, so I just assumed-" The fighter cleared his throat into a fist, staring pointedly at the wall and twisting his face into a forced scowl. "I also still owe them. I just have to pay the debt on my life somehow." 

Phil chuckled, obviously trying to politely look like he believed every word that was coming out of Technoblade's mouth, though the fighter was mentally kicking himself in the teeth because it was so _obviously_ bullshit. 

"Riiiight. Gotta pay that debt." He affirmed, looking pleased. "Goodnight, Techno."

The winged man moved out of the way, watching him curiously as Technoblade grunted in response and hurried upstairs to Tommy's room, shutting the door as quietly as he could manage once he had tip-toed in.

Untying the red satin around his waist, removing his crown, and shucking the pretty-much ruined shirt into the now-growing pile of fabric in the corner of the room, the fighter sighed and sat down heavily on the bare mattress. He examined his scuffed hands with a grimace; they were covered in dried blood and stuck with little pieces of obsidian from the wall. Technoblade also checked up on his leg wound, which luckily didn't bleed too badly when he'd torn the wound. He'd only re-opened it a little though, if signaled by the tiny little dot of red that marked the bandage wrapped around his thigh. It would be fine.

Technoblade, with a tired groan, kicked the boots from his hooves, rolled the stiff, bloody pant leg back over his leg, and flopped face-first onto the bed.

He'd ask about new sheets in the morning.

With a jolt and a gasp, Technoblade woke up. He sat up snarling, dragging a hand over his face. 

His dreams had been like the dreams of the night before. Dreams of endless murder and bloodshed, but now instead of Tommy laying dead on the floor, it was all Tubbo. 

Rubbing the back of a hand over his forehead to wipe away some of the cold sweat he felt like he was drowning in, the hybrid pushed himself from the mattress with a grunt and stretched, letting out a large yawn. His ribs didn't hurt as much as they did yesterday, which felt like a good sign. Ruffling his hair, the fighter clicked the door open quietly, slipping into the hall and, once again, to the linen closet. 

There was another set of dress clothes that had presumably been meant for the older brother; due to the size, though the shirt was black. They looked like they'd be more comfortable for him, at least.

Really, he was surprised there was more. He'd have to figure out a way to get the blood from the other clothes he'd borrowed then... unnecessarily ruined.

Clomping back down to the room as quiet as he could muster, Technoblade changed and threw his messy-as-fuck hair up, resting his ever-present crown on top. He tied his sash, pulled on his boots, tucked his blade into the sash using the handle prongs, and left as quickly as he had reentered. 

There were no sheets to strip this time around, thankfully. 

Except he... _might_ have ruined the mattress itself as a result.

The ground floor of the tavern was... empty. The fighter peered out the window, squinting against the sunlight of a new day. It didn't seem too early, so Technoblade was genuinely confused. 

He wasn't exactly _complaining_ about the lack of patrons but he was confused.

He... wasn't entirely sure he was completely up to talking to Phil after his breakdown last night.

"Hello?? Phil? Child?" He called out, wondering if the family was even in the building in the first place.

A suspiciously Tommy-like scoff was his answer to _that_ question. 

"Child...!! Da- Phil, why's he gotta call me child?" Tommy asked, his voice getting louder as he entered the large eating area from the kitchen door. 

"To be fair, you _are_ a child, Tommy." Phil replied, following his son soon-after. They were both dressed and decked out with satchels and long-strapped travel bags. Technoblade smirked at the freckled blonde as he stuck his tongue out at the fighter. Tubbo hurried out, looking harried, and clapped a hand against his friend's shoulder with a reassuring smile. Stomach swooping, Technoblade looked away from the other kid, fixing his gaze out the window. He could practically _feel_ the knowing look Phil was giving him amidst the useless bickering in the background.

"I am not!! I'm fifteen! You didn't call _Wilbur_ a child when he was fifteen!"

"Tommy we _are_ both _legally_ considered children..." Tubbo mentioned, adjusting the strap of his own leather bag. 

"Ahh legal shmegal. If I say we're not children, then we aren't children! Right, Tubbo?"

_"Technically..."_

"Oh, shut up! You're supposed to have my back here!"

Technoblade decided to poke himself into the conversation really quickly, still wearing a smirk as he looked over at Tommy.

"That was where you should've said 'semantics'."

"I still don't know what the fuck that means!!"

Then it cycled back to Tubbo with, "Even _I_ know what that means, T."

"Shut it dickhead! What does it mean then??"

The two went back and forth, and Technoblade realized they probably could forever. He twitched an ear in question as Phil approached him, looking fondly exasperated at the discussion at hand. The winged man sighed slightly, adjusting his hat and looking up at Technoblade.

"Remember I told you I was going to introduce you to someone?"

_"There's somebody I'm going to introduce you to tomorrow. I think I know how to help us all."_

How to help us all...

It was foolish and a probable risk that Technoblade was... admittedly willing to take, if it could offer him any form of salvation. 

"But I'm your best friend!"

"Yeah, and you're obviously stupid!"

"Hey!"

Ignoring the argument, the fighter nodded.

"Right. Is it... a long way?" He asked, motioning towards the travel bags. Phil sighed again, suddenly looking weary.

"It _is_ a bit of a way, though not too bad for people like us. But... we _are_ going to be traveling with Tommy, so a lot of what's in these bags consists of snacks to keep him from complaining. Wouldn't want you stabbing him out of irritation, right?" Phil joked good-naturedly, though there was a glint in his eye that very clearly conveyed that while he may be willing to help Technoblade and give him a chance, he still didn't fully trust him.

Which was completely understandable. To be honest, Technoblade still had no idea what changed in Phil's mind to even _give_ him _this_ chance in the first place.

"Awwww, Blade wouldn't stab me! He likes me too much!" Tommy piped in, his face stretched in a cocky grin as he draped an arm over the fighter's shoulders. Technoblade rolled his eyes with a scoff.

"Yeah, you're the only person in the world stupid enough to say that."

"Psh! You think you're so tough."

"You've known me for what, three days? Four?"

"...semantics."

"What character development. The child can speak."

"Dick! Why is he coming with us again, Phil?" Tommy jokingly whined, removing his arm from Technolade and turning to glare at his father. The fighter could hear Tubbo laughing at the banter, though he still couldn't look at him. So instead, he settled for a covert thumbs-up behind his back, which prompted another snort from the brunette. Phil sighed and made for the door, Technoblade at his heels.

"As much as I would love to debate the logistics of that choice myself, we should get going now." Tommy huffed and Tubbo snorted again, both of their footsteps loud on the wood flooring. Phil smiled softly as he looked at the kids from around Technoblade. "Tubbo? Have you-"

"Yeah, I sent a messenger this morning to Dad saying I was spending the day at Tommy's today to help with serving at the tavern like I usually do, and sleeping here tonight." 

There it was again; that weird swooping feeling in Technoblade's gut. 

This kid had no idea the amount of danger he was in, and it made the pinkette feel extremely weird and out-of-place. Phil himself, knowing what he does, looked apprehensive, but he masked it well with a smile as he pulled out another one of his black cloaks.

"Okay then... Tubbo, put this on. Let's go, boys."

Aaaaanndd, there was the shivering.

It was around midday now, and Phil, Technoblade, Tommy, and Tubbo had left Manberg pretty early in the morning. The walking was nice. The nature of the Overworld was still mesmerizing, especially once they reached biomes Technoblade had ever only read about. There had so far been the bamboo forest outside Manberg (Phil taking care to avoid the place he'd found Technoblade in last night), a swamp full of lush vines and bushes and lots and lots of bugs (Tommy complained the most during that leg of the trip, despite it being obvious he's made the trek hundreds of times before), some smaller villages that they'd passed by in a large, flower-filled meadow (Tubbo almost made them stop to admire a beehive on an oak tree), and another larger city between some absolutely gorgeous mountains that was apparently called 'Rutabagville' and was run by one Governor Karl Jacobs.

The names in the Overworld... yikes man. 

According to Phil, who had given Technoblade extensive explanations of anything they passed, the title of 'Governor' merely means that person who is in control of a settlement is the one to enact the orders from President Schlatt _from_ Manberg. The Governors really had no greater power in the terms of the world, and that was precisely what Pogtopia and its allies were fighting for.

Suddenly, the TNT in Manburg didn't seem so terrible.

Certainly not worth publicly assassinating a child over, anyway. Especially since there were no casualties on either side.

Even for the Blood God, that seemed to be a terribly desperate, cunning, and reckless move on Schlatt's part. Quackity didn't even seem to know what Schlatt was planning since he didn't look too distraught. Just disgruntled at worst.

Unless he was on the same level of _sick_ that his boss was.

Then that would explain a whole lot.

Except, Technoblade hadn't really gotten that vibe from him from the short time he'd interacted with the man.

Shaking his head, the fighter dragged himself from his wandering thoughts before he confused himself and stumbled over something, a heated conversation from Tommy and Tubbo reaching his ears from where they walked side-by-side at the back of the small group. They were walking through another pretty dense forest on a crude dirt path, and Technoblade was cold. He'd been chilled, sure, but he'd been too distracted with all of the new sights and experiences to really think about it.

A shudder made his shoulders shake, drawing the attention of the kids from behind him. How was his body not getting at least a little bit used to it by now??

"Are you alright, Techno?" He heard Tubbo ask, voice laced with concern. 

And cue that weird feeling that seemed to be associated with Tubbo talking to him. The pinkette ignored it as best as he could and raised a hand over his shoulder and waved it as nonchalantly as he could. 

"Yeah. Just chilly. It got cloudy."

He heard Tommy snort and reply with, "Bruh it may be cloudy, but it's not cold. It's gotta be at least eighty fucking degrees outside, and humid as shit to boot. We're in a _jungle."_

Ah. So it wasn't a forest. Only having pictures and descriptions to base things on is tricky. The fighter frowned to himself, knowing they couldn't see his face. Phil glanced back at him over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow. Technoblade sighed heavily.

"I just got back from spendin' a while in the Nether. Eighty degrees to me feels like Boreas is passin' through. I haven't... re-acclimated yet." He lied, hearing the little gasps of awe from the boys.

"How long were you in the Nether, big man?" Tommy asked, amazed. Thinking for a second, Technoblade shrugged.

"A few months. Don't really know exactly since there's no sun and moon cycle down there."

Tubbo piped in with, "Why were you there for so long? Isn't that a really bad place?"

"I was... uh... studyin' Piglins in their settlements."

They both made little noises of understanding when he lied again, probably assuming it was because he was a Piglin hybrid. A few moments passed in silence, with only the sounds of wildlife around them making any noise until, "What's 'Boreas'?" from Tubbo.

Technoblade actually turned around to face them at that, walking backward with his hands crossed over his chest. He looked at Tommy instead of Tubbo, Phil keeping oddly quiet from up front.

"You don't know who Boreas is?"

"No."

"Nope!"

"He's the God of the season of winter. The North Wind too, but I was more referencin' the winter part."

"Like the Aurora Borealis up North in the Antarctic Empire?"

"Not quite, Tubbo. I said North _Winds._ Not the Northern Lights. But you were thinkin' about it correctly. The Aurora Borealis was named after Boreas because he was the god of the North Winds, but he has no direct correlation to it _as_ a God. The first part is named after the Goddess Aurora."

"Uh... I'm a little lost.."

Technoblade sighed and Tommy stayed quiet, an unusually thoughtful look written all over his face. Well.. until the fighter tripped over a tree branch and almost fell over. The annoying little blonde laughed out loud at him as he pulled desperate maneuvers to stay on his feet. Flushing, Technoblade turned to walk the right way and slowed until he was walking only a few feet in front of the kids.

"Let me explain..."

And that's how Technoblade spent two hours of his time walking through a jungle and passionately explaining ancient Antarctic mythology to two wide-eyed teenagers, the father quietly and, unknowingly to Technoblade, smiling softly to himself as he listened.

The fighter forgot about the cold.

The sun was high in the sky behind puffy, stormy grey clouds once the group finally stopped in the middle of another mountainous area. Thunder boomed in the distance, making Technoblade jump.

He'd never heard real thunder before...

This certain mountainous area was filled with buildings and homes and fields of crops in a small settlement; people making their daily commutes back and forth. Flags of bright red white, blue, black, and yellow fluttered from roofs and were stuck on poles in yards. It was a different flag from the flags that were all over the rest of the world; which were simple black flags with bright orange. 

This must be Pogtopia, then.

The balls Pogtopia had to display these flags like this was honestly impressive.

Staring slack-jawed at the bustling settlement while Phil, Tommy, and Tubbo talked excitedly amongst each other revealed something Technoblade hadn't previously noticed. A lot of the people here weren't just making daily commutes. They were all heading for one place, many of them constantly looking over their shoulders as if anticipating an attack or siege.

Weren't _they_ the ones on the offensive??

Why were they even _at_ Pogtopia in the first place??

"...coming, Techno?" Phil called, drawing Technoblade's attention back to the family, who were yards ahead of him and within the groups of people. He blinked for a second, straightened his spine, wished desperately for one of the cloaks from Phil, and made his way to them, following them deeper into Pogtopia. It was loud, raucous, cheery, and yet tense and apprehensive all at the same time. Thunder pounded from beyond the mountains, the wind kicking up significantly. If anybody recognized him, nobody made a scene as they made their way down the bustling roads and paths. The fighter hurried and pushed his way to Phil's side, looking down at him in question. He was desperately trying not to appear as overwhelmed and over-stimulated as he actually was. His hands had started to twitch and his tail was lashing wildly from side-to-side.

"Where... where are we goin'?"

"To take you to meet someone who can help you, Techno." Phil spoke softly, so soft that Technoblade, even with his hybrid enhanced hearing, had to strain to make out his words.

 _"I-- we-- some people and I have a plan to do something during the festival._ _"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"...what did you think of Schlatt?"_

The festival was tomorrow.

The realization hit Technoblade like a truck, yet it made so much sense he was amazed he hadn't made the connection sooner.

"Wait, are you- are _we--??"_

"Shhhh. That can wait." Phil shushed him, holding a clawed finger to his lips. The crowd pushed them forwards, the mountains closing in and forming a valley that was _filled_ with buildings and fields from Pogtopia. Technoblade's eyes were wide and his heart was pounding as thunder clapped loudly, making the ground feel like he was literally quaking. Lightning flashed from the tops of the mountains.

Fuck, he'd never seen lightning before either.

It was haunting, powerful, and absolutely stunning. Technoblade could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he moved to keep pace with the only familiar faces in this fucking pit of chaos. He'd never felt so powerless in comparison to the sheer forces of nature at play here.

The pinkette found himself almost longing for the fire, stone, and simplicity of the Nether. For the order and control of the fighting ring.

Finally, Phil held up a hand to signal his quarry to stop and motioned towards an open trapdoor in the cobblestone of Pogtopia's main plaza. It was a huge slab of stone that opened out into a massive square that people were leaping into like it was nothing. 

Technoblade gaped as Phil seized Tommy and Tubbo, arms supporting them by their waists, and looked back at the fighter.

"Techno, jump after us! You'll be fine, trust me!"

Before Technoblade could even articulate a response, Phil stretched out his wings and leaped into the pit, taking a screaming Tommy and Tubbo down with him. The fighter looked around at the now-dwindling crowd, trying not to appear visibly shaken as the first few light raindrops spattered against his face.

_Rain._

He looked up at the sky in amazement as a couple more droplets hit his skin.

Real, watery _rain._

Shaking his head, Technoblade inhaled and, without any more hesitation as his fighter instincts took over, ran forwards and jumped into the hole. 

Falling is always a weird sensation. The feeling of absolutely nothing yet everything at the same time never failed to freak the fighter out. 

Falling into a small pond of cold, clear water, however, was a new sensation. Technoblade splashed heavily into the crystalline pool, sinking almost immediately to the bottom and feeling his spine painfully hit the rock at the bottom; his ribs crying out in protest as he collided with the ground. The breath was pushed from his chest and bubbles spewed from his mouth as he exhaled in shock. 

What were you supposed to do in _water???_ The feeling of sudden and absolute weightlessness threatened to send him into a fucking panic. God, this was all so much for one fucking day, and it was barely an hour past noon.

By pure instinct, it seemed, Technoblade lashed out with his hands and kicked out with his feet. The chill of the water when compared with the chill outside for his Nether-suited body was sending shudders up and down his bones, rattling his teeth and sending water cascading into his mouth. 

Without warning, there was a muffled splash near him before a hand suddenly gripped his bicep, dragged him up a little bit, and hooked their arms underneath his own, kicking out and swimming up towards the surface of the water. What appeared to be one of Phil's wing feathers drifted lazily in the water as they broke the surface. Technoblade dragged in great, choking gasps of air as he was dragged towards the slick pool edge, the sounds and feeling of wet panting warm against his ear as water splashed up over his face as his body slipped from the man's grip and started to sink again. Waves of loose pink hair were plastered against his eyes and tangled on his face and his tusks as the man grabbed him frantically and slammed him painfully up against the stone edge. 

Brain beginning to function like a normal human again, Technoblade grabbed onto the stone and hauled himself out of the pool with a grunt, hearing the sounds of the man who had gotten him out following suit. 

Well, this was just humiliating.

The Blood God. The _Blade_ was on his hands and knees, soaking wet, choking like a fish above water, and spitting up said water on a floor made of stone in what felt like some rank cavern that was currently being rained in from the hole as the storm had begun to pick up. 

Maybe water wasn't all that it was cracked up to be after all...

Technoblade's hair was cascading in wet clumps over his face and shoulders, his crown was MIA, his clothes were plastered to his skin and his soaking bandages, and his sword was somehow still tucked into his sash; though barely. He flicked a gold-adorned ear as concerned murmurs sounded from a little ways ahead, probably from some random bystanders.

The fighter flinched slightly as a hand clapped onto his back and another shoved his crown underneath his nose. The fighter took the headpiece with a muttered thanks.

"Hey man, you okay?? You dropped this."

"Y... yeah. Just uh... Don't like... water very much." He admitted, leaning back on his knees and pushing the wet slugs of hair from his face with a final choke and a sigh. Then he stiffened, slowly turning his head with wide eyes to face the man who had... also gone completely silent. 

_That voice._

He _knew_ he recognized that voice from yesterday.

The voice of the only person who had ever been able to be considered Technoblade's equal on the battlefield.

Someone who fought in the ring and somehow managed to spare the life of every person he went up against.

The only person Technoblade himself had spared on the battlefield.

Kneeling in front of Technoblade was a soaking wet, lightly freckled blonde with dark green eyes and a soaked green hood. His face was slowly darkening with horror and alarm; Technoblade's face mimicking the expression exactly. 

"Holy shit..." The man muttered as they stared at each other. The few remaining people in the room shifted nervously as the tension in the air suddenly grew to crazy levels of palpable. 

Then the tension broke as both men shot to their feet, drawing blades and posing to attack. Technoblade's eyes were wide with numb shock, the blood drained from his face. The man had twisted his own face into a snarl. 

"What the fuck are you doing here, Blood God??"

"I should be askin' you the same question, Dream. I KNEW I heard you yesterday." 

"What, you here to spy??? Get tired of killing for daddy?"

"Spy?? Why would I do that? You know perfectly well that I don't even live here."

Silence met his words, their gazes trained on each other with such ferocity it could probably bend a spoon. 

"You do know the Angel of Death is here right now, right?" Dream asked him, his face lighting up in a smirk. Technoblade shot him one of his own.

"I would hope so, since I came here with him. I don't think my memory is all that bad."

"Liar. Why would _you_ be with the Angel of Death? He get himself a new pet?"

The rustling of feathers against stone made one of Technoblade's ears twitch, a sharp voice cutting into the conversation before Technoblade could reply.

"Yes, and I think I might have to keep him on a leash."

The fighter whirled around with a frown.

"Phil!"

"Sorry, Techno. But uh- What the hell is going on, here?"

Once again, before Technoblade could respond, he was cut off by an exclamation from Dream.

"Phil you know who this is!! You know what he's capable of! Why is he here?"

The winged man looked back and forth between the two rivals, weapons still raised and knees still bent. He sighed in sudden realization, pinching the bridge of his nose as if combating a headache as he deals with two bickering children. 

"He's here _with_ us, Clay. We had a... very _interesting_ conversation yesterday, I think he'll be able to help us. We need it, don't we?"

Dream scowled, pondering Phil's words and lowering his blade. Technoblade reluctantly followed suit, tucking his sword away and walking as steadily as he could manage to Phil, trembling from head-to-toe from cold. 

"I know all about you two, and I think I understand. But if you could both please refrain from stabbing each other today, that would be greatly appreciated. This, if you haven't already noticed, is not a fighting ring, and I intend to keep it that way. Am I understood, boys?"

Dream gave the older man a nod, stomping down into the dimly-lit tunnel that Phil emerged from, the few remaining gathered people hurrying out after him. 

Technoblade briskly dipped his head, watching Phil huff in satisfaction and go down the corridor as well, leaving Technoblade alone in the dripping cavern. Rain splashed into the pool from the trapdoor above, stray droplets landing on the still fighter, whose mind had wandered off.

The fights between Dream and Technoblade from Dream's days in the ring were intense, erratic, and bloody on both sides. They had both been around sixteen at the time. Dream was a poor, nobody orphan child from the Overworld fighting for a chance at the money the ring provided for the winner to support him and his little sister. Technoblade was a wealthy and respected hybrid child who got whatever he wanted and was fighting for nothing more than the fact that he ~~had to~~ wanted to. Right from the get-go, the conflict of interests set them against each other as worthy opponents. 

Technoblade, the first time he went up face-to-face with Dream, had expected to win easily; like he always did. 

The fight had dragged on for more than an hour, both boys too stubborn to admit defeat and both boys too skilled to take the other's life. The shock Technoblade had felt when they both dropped at the same time, exhausted and bloodied and unable to continue, was a feeling the fighter never forgot. 

The cycle continued for more than a year, Technoblade watching as this mysterious opponent spared everybody he fought against with apparent ease and control. Then when Dream went up against Technoblade, he dropped the control and aimed to kill. 

They were equals.

They despised being equals with each other. 

Until, for some reason that Technoblade could only assume was because of the money, Dream entered the ring, looked at Technoblade, dropped his sword, slid to his knees, and surrendered. 

He had been able to tie with the champion so many times that he had enough money to support him and Drista for the rest of their lives, so, without spilling any more blood, Dream had given back the other half of Technoblade's crown and left. 

Or _maybe_ it was because Technoblade killed their older brother.

The fighter stared at Dream's retreating back, not entirely sure what to feel. 

His polar opposite. His _rival_ just-so happened to be here.

What was he _supposed_ to think?

So instead of facing his feelings, Technoblade squared his shoulders and walked down the tunnel after Phil. 

Emerging from the tunnel was like a huge weight being lifted off of his shoulders; the fighter stepping into a massive, crowded cavern full of chatting citizens and rebels around rows and rows of neat little wooden chairs. The rock above their heads was high and lit by a large chandelier, the room sloping outwards in a dome-like shape. Pogtopia flags were draped along the walls banner-like, two full-sized flags hanging behind a tall stone podium. 

Squinting through the crowd of people, Technoblade began to push through, looking for someone like Tommy or Tubbo. He... earned himself a lot of scowls in the process.

"WILBUR!!!" A happy, accented shout echoed above all of the other voices, immediately clueing Technoblade in to where he'd find a familiar face. Ears twitching, the fighter made his way through the people - hybrids and humans alike - until he spotted a familiar head of blonde accented with the red fabric of a bandanna. Tommy had seemingly leaped forward, and was locked in a tight embrace with a tall brunette with glasses, a beanie, and, most peculiarly, large feathered black wings; much like Phil's. The wings were wrapped happily around Tommy, making the child appear like he was in a big feathery cocoon. The brunette himself, Wilbur, was fondly ruffling Tommy's hair. Phil was standing a little to the side with a warm smile, and Tubbo was standing by Phil like he was a part of the family. 

Technoblade slowed his steps, the name 'Wilbur' having a ring of familiarity to it. It wasn't until he saw the very faint smattering of freckles over Wilbur's nose that he remembered, drawing to a complete stop. 

It must be the older brother Tommy had mentioned.

The four were now talking amiably amongst each other and feeling suddenly like he shouldn't be here, Technoblade took to examining the room and attempting to look calm and idle. 

He sent another awkward glance towards the family, and noticed with alarm that Phil was motioning to him and Wilbur had a contemplative frown on his face. 

Then he and Wilbur locked eyes. 

The two stared at each other for a few moments, sizing each other up. It was Wilbur who broke the staring contest, turning to sternly say something to an indignant Tommy before making his way over to Technoblade.

Well, shit.

"Hello, friend!" The winged man gave Technoblade a friendly, easy-going smile as he approached, holding out a clawed, feathered hand. The fighter took the hand, being led through an enthusiastic handshake.

"Hallo..." He responded, tail twitching. Wilbur pulled his hand back, stuffing them casually into the pockets of his trenchcoat. 

"Wilbur Soot Watson. Nice to meet ya mate!"

"Technoblade. I go by Techno."

"I know! Father dearest told me about you." He stuck a thumb over his shoulder, motioning to the other winged man. "You certainly look promising! How much has Dadza told you?"

"All I know is that Pogtopia is the group of rebels fightin' against President Schlatt. I have literally no idea what I'm doin' here, to be honest." The pinkette admitted, sheepishly rubbing a hand on the back of his soaking-wet head. To his surprise, Wilbur chuckled behind a hand, jokingly rolling his eyes.

"Sorry, this must be really confusing for you then. I've been telling him to work on being less cryptic." The winged brunette joked. "Everything should be explained soon, I promise. The meeting is about to start, actually."

"Meetin'?"

"You'll see." Wilbur winked at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, turning and bouncing up to the wooden podium and leaving the fighter standing there even more confused than he already was, somehow.   
He could see the brotherly resemblance towards Tommy immediately.

People seemed to have noticed the older Watson take his place, and began filing into the rows of little seats. It got noticeably quieter, the air thick with apprehension and nervous excitement. Technoblade himself couldn't help but people-watch, not noticing anybody he recognized from the ring, which was a _massive_ relief. (Apart from the obvious, of course.) Though he _did_ spot Niki and Fundy wandering around and chatting with some other familiar faces from his afternoon in the plaza yesterday. Apart from the few familiar faces, nobody else was ringing a bell. It was a pretty even mix of hybrids and humans; all strangers and all different.

The pinkette moved himself awkwardly to the back of the cavern, leaning against the rough wall and turning his gaze to the podium as Wilbur tapped the chintzy little taped-on microphone that sat on the oak a few times to fully quiet the crowd of onlookers.

Okay... so apparently Wilbur was a pretty important dude. Noted.

"Hello everyone! Glad to see you're all back here safe and well! If a little soaked..." He added the end sheepishly, earning him some chuckles from the audience of rebels.

He was popular and well-liked too. Damn.

Technoblade listed his head to the side, listening intently as the brunette continued on.

"We're here today so the plan can be communicated to everyone so we're on the same page tomorrow." Wilbur paused; probably for dramatic effect. Technoblade fought against rolling his eyes as excited murmurs and whispers erupted from the crowd, sounding so much like the voices in his head. The winged revolutionary held up a hand; politely commanding silence. The fighter raised an eyebrow, impressed as the voices almost immediately ceased so they could hang on to whatever came from his mouth.

"As I'm sure you all realize, tomorrow evening is the Manberg founding festival. Me and my crew have thought of what exactly we want to do. I'll let our very own Tubbo take it from here. Come on up here, will you?" Wilbur stepped back from the podium and motioned towards in a beckoning motion. The fighter frowned and fought back an odd and sudden wave of nausea as the little goat hybrid nervously stepped up and gripped either side of the wood. 

"Right um..." Tubbo cleared his throat, continuing a little more confidently. "Listening in on the festival planning talks between Quackity and Schlatt, I know that all and any security around the walls and the gate is going to be foregone in favor of letting 'all of his people party like animals'. The entirety of the capital is going to be unguarded and open, and I heard them say that our earlier attack has weakened a lot of the structural support of the city itself. Schlatt himself never has any security other than утка, so that shouldn't be a problem." The kid glanced back at Wilbur, who gave him an encouraging thumbs-up as a response.

Technoblade, meanwhile, was trying really hard not to tell Tubbo to stop talking and leave before he made the situation too dangerous for himself, but he was already in too deep for that to even be a consideration. 

This is why politics made him uncomfortable.

And, oftentimes, furious.

"Uh... I was assigned to give a speech at the closing ceremony tomorrow night on stage. The only other people who will be with me up there are Schlatt and Quackity." Tubbo quieted as Wilbur approached the podium standing next to the kid with a clawed hand on his shoulder.

"Based on all of this, we've concluded that Tubbo's speech will be the biggest chance we have tomorrow since everyone in Manberg will be gathered in one area; which is the central plaza." Then, to Technoblade's surprise, he reached up and pulled a cord that was hanging out of the stone above his head, revealing a large, hand-drawn map of Manberg and its surrounding area for miles.

"When Tubbo begins his speech, Tommy, Phil, and I will be inside the city limits and, hopefully on top of a building and out of sight since I'm legally considered 'exiled'. You are all going to be here and here..." He pointed at two locations on either side of the city right near the wall, "... ready to infiltrate and get inside. Tubbo's informed me that a fireworks show is going to follow his speech. That will be our only opportunity to get inside the walls. The only issue we've come upon is that if either me, Tommy, or Phil shoot one as a signal, which was going to be what went down, we would immediately be found out and hunted down. If anyone has any suggestions, speak up now."

Technoblade was appalled. The plan itself was smart and simple, but he had had no idea the depths that this went to.

Schlatt had painted them as 'rebels' and 'minor terrorists to be easily disposed of'.

This was not minor terrorism. Technoblade widened his eyes as he came to a realization as people raised their hands and provided options to Wilbur.

This was _war._

Real, bloody war.

People were going to die.

What had he gotten himself wrapped up in...?

He could've already-

_No, nope._

This was the much better option.

The fighter focused back onto the meeting, quirking an eyebrow as Phil stood up from his seat in the front row. 

"Wilbur. I think I have a solution." He rubbed a finger over his chin, thinking and contemplating as he spoke. Wilbur looked delighted.

"What have you got, Dadza?"

"We have someone else with... ties to Schlatt in here that can help us with this." Phil said, and Technoblade felt his stomach drop as the winged man's icy eyes scanned the room; eventually locking on him with a pleased smile.

"Really?! Who?"

"Technoblade here has been contacted by President Schlatt, and from what I can tell, the president trusts him. Techno is... very good at what he does." 

Suddenly, all of the eyes in the room shifted right onto Technoblade. He shrank back a little bit, crossing his arms with a frown. Some were suspicious, some were innocently skeptical, and some were relieved, but all were sizing him up and judging him in some capacity. It made the fighter want to squirm. Tommy, however, was puffed up with pride, and...

Ah shit.

"ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT!!" A loud voice shouted from a corner, a blur of green shooting upwards as Dream got to his feet. Technoblade watched him blankly, trying not to appear like he supported Dream's objections; which he totally fucking did. Wilbur cocked his head and Phil sighed like a tired father. The audience began to mutter amongst themselves, shooting glances back and forth. Tommy looked silently outraged and Tubbo looked concerned.

"Why not, Dream?" Wilbur asked curiously, obviously making an effort to keep his voice light.

"You cannot trust this man, Wilbur. Phil, what are you _thinking?!"_ Dream sputtered, the two rivals locking eyes from across the cave. Tommy stood before Phil could respond, wearing an angry scowl.

"Shut it, Green Boy! Techno is a good guy and he's our _friend!!_ If we trust him, why can't you? Tubbo does too!" Tommy looked at his friend, who gave him a firm nod back.

"Tommy, you have no idea what you're saying right now. Let the adults speak." Dream retorted, green eyes still trained on Technoblade's own red, which were staring at Tommy in utter surprise. "I'll have to step in before you fuck this plan up before it even gets started."

"You don't even know him, prick! You wanna go right now?? I'm a big man, I can take you!! Winner gets to decide what to do with Big T!!" He shouted, red with indignancy and anger. The odd enderman-ghast hybrid that Technoblade had met the day prior, Ranboo or something, was tugging on Tommy's sleeves, trying to pull him back to his seat and muttering something inaudible.

"Tommy..." Phil warned him, glaring at his youngest. Wilbur looked quietly thoughtful in the way that Phil had constantly since Technoblade had arrived. He didn't interject; just merely listened. Technoblade himself was... oddly warmed by the kid's defense of him, though it was also clouded with guilt. Dream could apparently see the guilt and threw out a hand.

"Have you really not told them??? Huh, Blade? I thought you were oh-so confident in your skills. Why not give them a demonstration?? You've got plenty of material here to work with!!"

Technoblade bared his teeth, bristling.

"Clay..." Phil turned and warned the other blonde, looking more and more irritated with every passing second. 

"Told us what?"

"Boys..."

"Oh lemme tell you, Tomathy. He-"

In a moment of panic, Technoblade shoved himself forward off the wall a few steps, holding out a desperate hand.

"DO NOT, DREAM. I will tell them when the time is right." He blurted. Dream froze, leaving Technoblade wondering for a horrifying second if Dream was going to tell the increasingly-confused-looking child anyway. Then Dream smirked slightly, giving him a shrug.

"Have it your way."

"Wha-" Tommy started, Technoblade holding up a hand and looking up at Wilbur. The fighter was internally trying to forget the hundreds of pairs of eyes trained on him from every angle.

"Is there anywhere we can talk in private?"

Wilbur nodded and said, "Yes. We can go to the map room. Phil?" The winged brunette motioned for his father and Technoblade, walking from the podium.

"We'll be back in a moment, everyone!" He exclaimed, leading the two men to a door that was unnoticeable at first glance, blending in seamlessly with the wall. Wilbur pushed a button, stuffing his hands in his pockets and casually humming to himself as the door slid open. He turned to look at Phil and Technoblade with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"After you, gentlemen."

The map room of the underground tunnels of Pogtopia was small; no more than the size of Technoblade's bedroom. It was covered in detailed maps of big, politically important cities and villages, roads, oceans, and... yes, there was even a map detailing tunnel networks. There were very descriptive writings on governmental figureheads as well, smack in the center of a large board that was pinned up to the stone. There was also what looked to be a framed Independence Declaration over the door, which had slid shut. In the middle of the dank space was a circular table roughly carved of cobblestone and scattered with attack plans and TNT blueprints.

This was a war room.

Technoblade looked around in amazement, trying to take in the sheer amount of _information_ that was tacked to the walls. Phil took a seat on a little stone stool at the table and Wilbur walked over to light a small torch that was mounted on the floor in the corner. Both men had their wings tucked and their eyes drifting.

They looked so much alike in that moment that Technoblade felt a little pang in his chest.

Wilbur put the now-flickering torch on the ground and turned to lean over the table.

"So... what's going on, here?"

"Would you like it from the beginnin'?" Technoblade asked with a frown, twitching an ear. Phil stayed quiet, training his gaze on Technoblade in surprise. Wilbur shrugged.

"I _would_ like to know as much as I can."

It was Phil who spoke next, "Have you heard of the Blood God, son?"

"I have. Why?"

Without words, Phil stuck a thumb towards Technoblade, who sighed. Wilbur took a few seconds to comprehend what he was being told, soft brown glance flicking between the fighter and his father.

Then his jaw dropped.

Technoblade braced himself for whatever would happen next, his hand automatically flitting to the handle of his washed-clean blade. Phil watched his hand but said nothing more. Wilbur seemed to try and collect his own thoughts, staring unabashedly at Technoblade, then at his crown.

"Oh... _Oh fuck yeah."_ He whispered almost... reverently; his eyes wide as dinner plates. He clapped a palm to his forehead in disbelief, letting out a burst of shocked laughter. Technoblade was shocked.

Well, _that_ was a reaction he'd never gotten before. He rubbed the back of his head as Wilbur began to splutter.

"Are... we... are you _serious_ Dadza??! Do we really have _the_ Blood God on our side?!"

Phil glanced over at Technoblade with raised eyebrows, and the fighter moved over to the table with a resigned sigh.

"Okay, I'll explain. You uh... you definitely won't like it."

Time passed; the three men sitting in a small, cold cave room at an uncomfortable stone table and talking about plans and positions and negotiations.

Except that was the easy part, which had come after the hard one.

The one where Technoblade had to explain to Wilbur the reason he was in the Overworld in the first place, and everything that had happened since then. Though he did leave out... _certain_ details. (Like how he absolutely _did not_ break down during his and Phil's little... evening chat.)

And Technoblade was right: Wilbur didn't like it.

But that was just how it was.

The hours ended with the three hybrids shaking hands and leaving with the burden that had rested on Technoblade's shoulders now eased; if only a little bit.

Now Technoblade was standing next to Wilbur and Phil at the podium; much to Dream's blatant dismay. The crowd was weary and had started to get impatient with the amount of time they had been in the map room, but they had quieted instantly once Wilbur had cleared his throat and prepared to speak.

That man was very good at fake smiling.

"The suggestion from Philza has been given serious time and thought over these last couple of hours, and I have just recently been made aware of a very dire situation that needs full attention. My father met this man, Technoblade, a couple days ago. He has ties and a pretty one-sided trust with President Schlatt. He has agreed to attend the festival and shoot off the firework signal, as well as keep a lookout and provide protection for a certain someone we feel needs it most at this time. He will also help keep me, Tommy, and Phil out of sight from anyone who may see us. The plan will go as decided." Wilbur paused as the looks of impatience melted into determined optimism. Technoblade gave the audience a slight incline of his head, and Phil smiled encouragingly. Wilbur sighed and leaned over his podium, his eyes fierce.

"The dawn of our one chance approaches. Our one chance to find our freedom and give every other settlement and city in this world equal rights and decisions that we have lacked under the leadership of Pres- no... _Dictator_ Jebediah Schlatt. That is the only goal of Pogtopia; to end the suffering of everyone who isn't fortunate enough to live in _Manberg."_ He spat out the last word as if it were a piece of moldy cheese. "Pog through the pain, Pogtopia will remain. RIGHT?"

"POG THROUGH THE PAIN!" The shout was collective and bold from the audience, echoing and bouncing around the cavern and making Technoblade's ears ring. He cast a side-long glance at Wilbur, who had let the cry resonate and twist his face into a sly smirk as he rested his chin on his hands. Technoblade shivered at the look in his eyes as he spoke.

"...then let's go goat hunting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... this is late. As a student, things got really really busy for me over the last two weeks or so with some projects for a few of my classes. This... kinda suffered for it, and I really want to apologize for that. Regarding my schedule, since there's been some good points brought up; I'll still keep it as a basis because I usually get the chapters done. But I'm a student and it's definitely going to fluctuate with my workflow! Not enough to ever make this considered inactive (I couldn't bear to do that), but I just wanted to let y'all know in case you end up waiting for a chapter update in the future!!  
> On a lighter note, I really can't thank you guys enough for bearing with me!! I really appreciate the comments I've received and that you guys have stuck around <3 Anybody new, hey! Thank you for checking this out!  
> Remember, any errors you notice or criticism is greatly appreciated!
> 
> Disclaimer: EVERYONE NAMED IN THIS FIC IS A REAL-LIFE PERSON!! ALL SITUATIONS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF THESE PEOPLE ARE PURELY FICTIONAL AND ARE NOT MEANT TO REPRESENT THE CREATORS AS A WHOLE. THESE CHARACTERS ARE JUST THAT: CHARACTERS AND PERSONAS THAT THESE CREATORS USE IN THEIR CONTENT.


End file.
